BX  6333  .M365  C5  1902 
Maclaren,  Alexander,  1826 

1910. 
Christ  in  the  heart 


CHRIST    IN    THK    HKART 


/>> ' 


Qhrist  in  the  ^^06. 

HEART   ^    ^    ->- 

AND      OTHER      SERMONS     by 

Alexander  Maclaren  d.d. 


W,,e     IJU 


FUNK   &  WAGNALLS   COMPANY 

N  E  V     YORK 


C  O  X  T  E  N  T  S 


si:rmox  I  •  "^ 

CHRIST    IN    THE    llEAUr  :    S I  RENCi'I  I.'KXKl)    AVITH    .^^(•.HT    .  I 

SERMON  II 

CHRIST   IX    THE    HEART:    THE    IXUWELLIXC.    CHRIST  .  I3 

SERMON  III 

CHRIST    IX    THE     HEART:      rXKXOWABEE     LOVE     KXOWX 

TO   LOVE 25 

SERMON  I\' 

CHRIST     IX      THE     HEART  :      THE     PARADOX     OF     LOVES 

MEASURE '  •  •  •         39 

SERMON  V 

CHRIST   IX   THE    HEART:    THE   CLIMAX   OF   PRAYER.  .         53 

SER^[ON  VI 

CHRISTS   TOUCH 63 

SERMON  VII 

THE   COMMANDER    OF    THE    FAITHFUL         .  .  .  •         7i 


VI  CONTENTS 

SERMON  VIII  PAGE 

THE   commander's    CONFLICT   AND   TRIUMPH   ...         89 

SERMON  IX 

THE   CARRION    AND   THE   VULTURES  ....       IO3 

SERMON  X 

THE   DEATH    OF   ABRAHAM I  1 5 

SERMON    XI 
THE   SILENCE   OF   SCRIPTURE 1 29 

SERMON  XII 

ITTAI    OF   GATH .  .       I43 

SERMON  XIII 

TWO    BUILDERS   ON    ONE   FOUNDATION       .  ,  .  •       'SB 

SERMON  XIV 

WHAT   CROUCHES   AT   THE   DOOR 1 69 

SERMON  XV 

A    PURE    CHURCH    AN    INCREASING    CHURCH      .  .  .       I81 

SERMON  XVI 

MAHANAIM  :    THE   TWO    CAMPS 193 

SERMON  XVII 

THE    CONTRASTED    AIMS    AND     PARALLEL      METHODS    OF 

THE   WORLD   AND   THE    CHRISTIAN      ....       203 


CONTENTS  V 1 

SERMON  XVIII  PAGE 

CHAMBERS   OF    IMAGERY 21$ 

SEKMCJN  XIX 

FOKMS    VERSUS   CHARACTER 227 

SER^ION  XX 

THE      THIRST      OF     THE      SOUL     AFTER     GOD      AND      ITS 

SATISFACTION    IX    GOD 241 

SERMON  XXI 

"CAIAPHAS" 255 

SERMON  XXII 

"THE   GOSPEL    OF    THE    GLORY    OF   THE    HAPPY   GOD "        .       269 

SERMON  XXIII 

"LIKE   PRECIOUS   FAITH  "  ...'..      279 

SERMON  XXIV 
SELF-MUTILATIOX    FOR    SELF-PRESERVATION     .  .  .      29I 

SERMON  XXV 

IS   THE    SPIRIT    OF   THE   LORD    STRAITENED?     .  .  .      303 

SERMON  XXVI 

HFJ^OD A    STARTLED    CONSCIENCE S'5 


STRENGTHENED    WITU   MIGHT. 


gEILMON  L 


■TBENQTHENED  WITH   MIGHT. 

"That  H«  wonld  grsnt  70Q,  sooordicg  to  the  riches  of  Hi£  glory,  to  be  (trerftbecei 
with  might  by  Hia  Spirit  in  the  izmer  man."— Epgu  iii  10. 

In  no  part  of  Paul's  letters  does  he  rise  to  a  higher  level 
than  in  his  prayers,  and  none  of  his  prayers  are  fuller  of 
fervour  than  this  wonderful  series  of  petitions.  They 
open  out  one  into  the  other  like  some  majestic  suite  of 
apartments  in  a  great  palace-temple,  each  leading  into  a 
loftier  and  more  spacious  hall,  each  drawing  nearer  the 
presence-chamber,  until  at  last  we  stand  there. 

Roughly  speaking,  the  prayer  is  divided  into  four  peti- 
tions, of  which  each  is  the  cause  of  the  following  and  the 
result  of  the  preceding  : — "  That  He  would  grant  you,  ac- 
cording to  the  riches  of  His  glory,  to  be  strengthened  with 
might  by  His  Spirit  in  the  inner  man."  That  is  the  first. 
"  In  order  that  Christ  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith," 
•*yo  being  rooted  and  grounded  in  love" — such  is  the 
•econd,  the  result  of  the  first,  and  the  preparation  for  the 
third.  "  That  ye  may  be  able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints 
.  .  .  and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ  which  passeth  know- 
ledge." Such  is  the  next,  and  all  lead  up  at  last  to  that 
wonderful  desire  beyond  which  nothing  is  possible — 
"that  ye  might  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God." 

B  2 


4  8TBENGTHBNED  WITH  MIGHT. 

I  venture  to  contemplate  dealing  with  these  four  peti- 
tions in  succesBive  serm^^ns,  in  order,  God  helping  me, 
that  I  may  hi'ing  before  you  a  fairer  vision  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  your  Christian  life  than  you  ordinarily  entertain. 
For  PauPs  prayer  is  God's  purpose,  and  what  He  means 
xvith  all  who  profess  His  name  is  that  these  exuberant 
desires  may  be  fulfilled  in  them.  So  let  us  now  listen  to 
that  petition  which  is  the  foundation  of  all,  and  consider 
that  great  thought  of  the  Divine  strength-giving  power 
which  may  be  bestowed  upon  every  Christian  soul. 

I. — First,  then,  I  remark  that  God  means,  and  wishes, 
that  all  Christians  should  be  strong  by  the  possession  of 
the  spirit  of  might. 

It  is  a  miserably  inadequate  conception  of  Christianity, 
and  of  the  gifts  which  it  bestows,  and  the  blessings  which 
it  intends  for  men,  when  it  is  limited,  as  it  practically  is, 
by  a  large  number — I  might  almost  say  the  majority— of 
professing  Christians  to  a  simple  means  of  alte  ing  their 
relation  to  the  past,  and  to  the  broken  law  of  God  and  of 
righteousness.  Thanks  be  to  His  name  !  His  great  gift 
to  the  world  begins  in  each  individual  case  with  the  as- 
surance that  all  the  past  is  cancelled.  He  gives  that  blessed 
sense  of  forgiveness,  which  can  never  be  too  highly  esti- 
mated unless  it  is  forced  out  of  its  true  place  as  the  intro- 
duction, and  made  to  be  the  climax  and  the  end  of  His 
gifts.  I  do  not  know  what  Christianity  means,  unless  it 
means  that  yon  and  I  are  forgiven  for  a  purpose  ;  that  the 
purpose,  if  I  may  so  say,  is  something  in  advance  of  the 
means  towards  the  purpose,  the  purpose  being  that  we 
should  be  filled  with  all  the  strength  and  righteousness 
and  supernatural  life  granted  to  us  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 

It  is  well  that  we  should  enter  into  the  vestibule.  There 
is  no  other  path  to  the  Throne  but  through  the  vestibule. 
But  do  not  let  us  forget  that  the  good  news  of  forgiveness, 
though  we  need  it  day  by  day,  and  perpetually  repeated, 


STREXGTIIE^•ED   WITH   MIGHT.  T) 

if  fent  th«  introdnction  to,  and  porch  of  th«  Temple,  «nd 
that  beyond  it  there  towers,  if  I  cannot  say  a  loftier,  yet  I 
may  say  a  further  gift,  even  the  gift  of  a  Divine  life  like 
His,  from  Whom  it  comes,  and  of  which  it  is  in  reality 
an  eflBnence  and  a  spark.  The  trne  characteristic  blessing 
of  the  Gospel  is  the  gift  of  a  new  power  to  a  sinful  weak 
world  ;  a  power  which  makes  the  feeble  strong,  and  the 
strongest  as  an  angel  of  God. 

Oh,  brethren  I  we  who  know  how,  "If  any  power  we 
have,  it  is  to  ill ;"  we  who  understand  the  weakness,  the 
unaptness  of  our  spirits  to  any  good,  and  our  strength  for 
every  vagrant  evil  that  comes  upon  them  to  tempt  them, 
should  surely  recognise  as  a  Gospel  in  very  deed  that 
which  proclaims  to  us  that  the  "everlasting  God,  the  Lord, 
the  Creator  of  the  ends  of  the  earth,'*  Who  Himself 
"fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary,"  hath  yet  e  loftier 
display  of  His  strength-giving  power  than  that  which 
is  visible  in  the  heavens  above,  where,  "because  He  is 
strong  in  might  not  one  faileth."  That  heaven,  the 
region  of  calm  completeness,  of  law  unbroken  and  there- 
fore of  power  undiminished,  affords  a  lesser  and  dimmer 
manifestation  of  His  strength  than  the  work  that  is  done 
in  the  hell  of  a  human  heart  that  has  wandered  and  is 
brought  back,  that  is  stricken  with  the  weakness  of  the 
fever  of  sin,  and  is  healed  into  the  strength  of  obedience 
and  the  omnipotence  of  dependence.  It  is  much  to  say 
"  for  that  He  is  strong  in  might,  not  one  of  these  faileth.' 
It  is  more  to  say  "  He  giveth  power  to  them  that  have 
failed ;  and  to  them  that  have  no  might  He  increaseth 
strength."  The  Gospel  is  the  gift  of  pardon  for  holiness, 
and  its  inmost  and  most  characteristic  bestowment  is 
the  bestowment  of  a  new  power  for  obedience  and 
service. 

And  that  power,  as  1  need  not  remind  you,  is  given  to 
OS  through  the  gift  of  the  Divine  Spirit.    The  very  name 


\ 


6  8TBENQTHBNED  WITH   MIGHT. 

of  that  Spirit  is  the  "  Spirit  of  Might."  Christ  spoke  to 
us  about  being  "  endued  with  power  from  on  high."  The 
last  of  His  promises  that  dropped  from  His  lips  npon  earth 
was  the  promise  that  His  followers  should  receive  the 
power  of  the  Spirit  coming  npon  them.  Wheresoever  in 
the  early  histories  we  read  of  a  man  that  was  full  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  we  read  that  he  was  "full  of  power."  Ac- 
cording to  the  teaching  of  this  Apostle.  Grod  hath  given 
us  the  "  spirit  of  power,"  which  is  also  the  spirit  "  of  love 
and  of  a  eonnd  mind.*'  So  the  strength  that  we  must 
have,  if  we  have  strength  at  all,  is  the  strength  of  a 
Divine  Spirit,  not  our  own,  that  dwells  In  ni,  and  worki 
through  us. 

And  there  is  nothing  in  that  which  need  startle  or  sur- 
prise any  man  who  believes  in  a  living  God  at  all,  and  in 
the  possibility,  therefore,  of  a  connection  between  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  all  the  human  spirits  which  are  His 
children.  I  would  maintain,  in  opposition  to  many  modem 
conceptions,  the  actual  supernatural  character  of  the  gift 
that  is  bestowed  upon  every  Christian  sonl.  My  reading 
of  the  New  Testament  is  that  as  distinctly  above  the  order 
of  material  nature  as  is  any  miracle,  is  the  gift  that  flowf 
into  a  believing  heart  There  is  a  direct  passage  between 
God  and  my  spirit.  It  lies  open  to  His  touch  ;  all  the 
paths  of  its  deep  things  can  be  trodden  by  Him.  Yon 
and  I  act  upon  one  another  from  without,  He  acts  upon 
us  within.  We  wish  one  another  blessings  ;  He  gives  the 
blessings.  We  try  to  train,  to  educate,  to  incline,  and 
dispose,  by  the  presentation  of  motives  and  the  urging  of 
reasons  ;  He  can  plant  in  a  heart  by  His  own  Divine  hus- 
bandry the  seed  that  shall  blossom  into  immortal  life. 
And  BO  the  Christian  Church  is  a  great,  continuous,  super- 
natural community  in  the  midst  of  the  material  world  ; 
and  every  believing  soul,  because  it  possesses  something 
of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ,  has  been  the  laat  of  a  miracle 


STRENQTHENBD  WITH  MIOHT.  1 

•a  real  and  true  ai  when  He  said  "  Lazarus,  come  forth  T 
Precisely  this  teaching  does  our  Lord  Himself  present  for 
our  acceptance  when  He  sets  side  by  side,  as  mutually 
Illustrative,  as  belonging  to  the  same  order  of  supernatural 
phenomena,  "  the  hour  is  coming  when  the  dead  shall 
hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  and  they  that  hear  shall 
live,"  which  is  the  supernatural  resurrection  of  souls  dead 
in  sin, — and  "  the  hour  is  coming  in  the  which  all  that 
are  in  the  graves  shall  hear  His  voice,  and  shall  come 
forth,"  which  is  the  future  resurrection  of  the  body,  in 
obedience  to  His  will. 

So,  Christian  men,  and  women,  do  you  set  clearly  before 
you  this  :  that  God's  purpose  with  you  is  but  begun  when 
He  has  forgiven  you,  that  He  forgives  you  for  a  design, 
that  it  is  a  means  to  an  end,  and  that  you  have  not 
reached  the  conception  of  the  large  things  which  Ho 
Intends  for  you  unless  you  have  risen  to  this  great  thought 
— He  means  and  wishes  that  you  should  be  strong  with 
the  strength  of  His  own  Divine  Spirit. 

II. — Now  notice,  next,  that  this  Divine  Power  has  its 
seat  in,  and  is  intended  to  influence  the  whole  of  the 
Inner  life. 

Afl  my  text  puta  It,  we  may  be  strengthened  with  might 
by  His  spirit  in  the  inner  man.  By  the  "  inner  man  "  1 
•uppose,  is  not  meant  the  new  creation  through  faith  in 
Jesus  Christ  which  this  Apostle  calls  "the  new  man,'*  but 
•imply  what  Peter  calls  the  "  hidden  man  of  the  heart,** 
the  "  soul,"  or  unseen  self  as  distinguished  from  the 
visible  material  body  which  it  animates  and  informs.  It 
Is  this  inner  self,  then.  In  which  the  Spirit  of  God  is  to 
dwell,  and  into  which  it  is  to  breathe  strength.  Tlie 
leaven  ii  hid  deep  In  three  measures  of  meal  until  the 
whole  be  leavened-  And  the  point  to  mark  is  that  the 
whole  inward  region  which  makes  up  the  true  man  is  the 
field  upon  which  this  Divine  Spirit  is  to  work.     It  is  not 


9  0TBEKOTH£Jii&D  WITH  MIGHT. 

ft  bit  ef  yotir  inward  life  that  ii  to  b«  hallowed.  It  is  nol 
any  one  aspect  of  it  that  ia  to  be  strengthened,  bnt  it  is 
the  -whole  intellect,  affections,  desires,  t^^tes,  powers  of 
attention,  conscience,  imagination,  memory,  will.  The 
whole  inner  man  in  all  its  corners  is  to  be  filled,  and  to 
come  nnder  the  influence  of  this  power,  •*  until  there  be 
no  part  dark,  as  when  the  bright  shining  of  a  candle 
giveth  thee  light." 

There  is  no  part  of  my  being  that  is  not  patent  to  the 
tread  of  this  Divine  Guest.  There  are  no  rooms  of  the 
house  of  my  spirit,  into  which  He  may  not  go.  Let  Him 
come  with  the  master  key  in  His  hand  into  all  the  dim 
chambers  of  your  feeble  nature ;  and  as  the  one  life  is 
light  in  the  eye,  and  colour  in  the  cheek,  and  deftness  in 
the  fingers,  and  strength  in  the  arm,  and  pulsation  in 
the  heart,  so  He  will  come  with  the  manifold  results  of 
the  one  gift  to  you.  He  will  strengthen  your  understand- 
ings, and  make  you  able  for  loftier  tasks  of  intellect  and 
of  reason,  than  you  can  face  in  your  unaided  power ;  He 
will  dwell  in  your  affections  and  make  them  vigorous  to 
lay  hold  upon  the  holy  things  that  are  above  their  natural 
inclination,  and  will  make  it  certain  that  their  reach  shall 
not  be  beyond  their  grasp,  as,  alas  \  it  so  often  is  in  the 
sadness,  and  disappointments  of  human  love.  He  will 
come  into  that  feeble,  vacillating,  wayward  will  of  yonra, 
that  is  only  obstinate  in  its  adherence  to  the  low  and  the 
evil,  as  some  foul  creature,  that  one  may  try  to  wrench 
away,  digs  its  claws  into  corruption  and  holds  on  by  that. 
He  will  lift  your  will  and  make  it  fix  upon  the  good  and 
abominate  the  evil,  and  through  the  whole  being  He  will 
pour  a  great  tide  of  strength  which  shall  cover  all  the 
weakness.  He  will  be  like  some  subtle  elixir  which, 
taken  into  the  lips,  steals  through  a  pallid  and  wasted 
frame,  and  brings  back  a  glow  to  the  cheek  and  a  Iwtre 
U)  the  eye,  and  swiftness  to  the  brain,  and  power  to  th« 


•TBBNGTHENBD   WITH  MIGHT.  9 

whole  natnre.  Or  as  0ome  plant,  drooping  and  flagging 
beneath  the  hot  rays  of  the  snn,  when  it  has  the  scent  of 
water  given  to  it,  will,  in  all  its  parts,  stiffen  and  erect 
itself,  80  when  the  Spirit  is  poured  out  on  men,  their 
whole  nature  is  invigorated  and  helped. 

That  indwelling  Spirit  will  be  a  power  for  suffering. 
The  parallel  passage  to  this  in  the  twin  Epistle  to  the 
Colossians  is — "  strengthened  with  all  might  unto  all 
patience  and  long-suffering  with  gentleness."  Ah  I  breth- 
ren, unless  this  Divine  Spirit  were  a  power  for  patience 
and  endurance  it  were  no  power  suited  to  us  poor  men. 
So  dark  at  times  is  every  life  ;  so  full  at  times  of  discourage- 
ments, of  dreariness,  of  sadness,  of  loneliness,  of  bitter 
memories,  and  of  fading  hopes  does  the  human  heart  be- 
come, that  if  we  are  to  be  strong  we  must  have  a  strength 
that  will  manifest  itself  most  chiefly  in  this,  that  it  teaches 
us  how  to  bear,  how  to  weep,  how  to  submit  - 

And  it  will  be  a  power  for  conflict.  We  have  all  of  us, 
in  the  discharge  of  duty  and  the  meeting  of  temptation, 
to  face  such  tremendous  antagonisms  that  unless  we  have 
grace  given  to  us  which  will  enable  us  to  resist,  we  shall 
be  overcome  and  swept  away.  God's  power  from  the 
Divine  Spirit  within  us,  does  not  absolve  us  from  the 
fight  but  it  fits  us  for  the  fight.  It  is  not  given  in  order 
that  holiness  may  be  won  without  a  struggle,  as  some 
people  seem  to  think,  but  it  is  given  to  us  in  order  that  in 
the  struggle  for  holiness  we  may  never  lose  "  one  jot  of 
heart  or  hope,"  but  may  be  **  able  to  withstand  in  the  evil 
day,  and  having  done  all  to  stand.** 

It  is  a  power  for  service.  "  Tarry  ye  in  Jerusalem  till 
ye  be  endued  with  power  from  on  high."  There  is  no 
inch  force  for  the  spreading  of  Christ's  Kingdom,  and  the 
witness-bearing  work  of  His  Church  as  the  possession  of 
this  Divine  Spirit.  Plunged  into  that  fiery  baptism,  the 
selfishness  and  the  «loth,  which  stand  in  the  way  of  so 


10  BTR£NGTHENBD  WITH  MIGHT. 

many  of  ns,  are  all  consumed  and  annihilated,  and  we  are 
set  free  for  service  because  the  bonds  that  bound  us  are 
burnt  up  in  the  merciful  furnace  of  His  fiery  power. 

•*  Ye  shall  be  strengthened  with  might  by  His  Spirit  in 
the  inner  man  "—a  power  that  will  fill  and  flood  all  your 
nature  if  you  will  let  it,  and  will  make  you  strong  to  suffer, 
strong  to  combat,  strong  to  serve,  and  to  witness  for  your 
Lord. 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  let  me  point  yon  still  further  to 
the  measure  of  this  power.  It  is  limitless  with  the  bound- 
lessness of  God  Himself.  "  That  he  would  grant  you,"  is 
the  daring  petition  of  the  Apostle,  "  according  to  the  riches 
of  His  glory  to  be  strengthened." 

There  is  the  measure.  There  is  no  limit  except  the  un- 
counted wealth  of  His  own  self -manifestation,  the  flashing 
light  of  revealed  Divinity.  Whatsoever  there  is  of 
splendour  in  that,  whatsoever  there  is  of  power  there,  iK 
these  and  in  nothing  on  this  side  of  them,  lies  the  limit 
of  the  possibilities  of  a  Christian  life.  Of  course  there  is 
a  working  limit  at  each  moment,  and  that  is  our  capacity  to 
receive  ;  but  that  capacity  varies,  may  vary  indefinitely, 
may  become  greater  and  greater  beyond  our  count  or 
measurement.  Our  hearts  may  be  more  and  more  capable 
of  God  ;  and  in  the  measure  of  which  they  are  capable  of 
Him  they  shall  be  filled  by  Him.  A  limit  which  is  always 
shifting  is  no  limit  at  all.  A  kingdom,  the  boundaries  of 
which  are  not  the  same  from  one  year  to  another,  by 
reason  of  its  own  inherent  expansive  power,  may  be  said 
to  have  no  fixed  limit.  And  so  we  appropriate  and  en- 
close, as  it  were,  within  our  own  little  fence  a  tiny  portion 
of  the  great  prairie  that  rolls  boundlessly  to  the  horizon. 
But  to-morrow  we  may  enclose  more,  if  we  will,  and  more 
and  more  ;  and  so  ever  onwards,  for  all  that  is  God's  is  ours, 
and  He  has  given  us  His  whole  self  to  use  and  to  possess 
through  our  faith  in  His  Son.    A  thimble  can  oaly  take 


STRBNGTHBNBD   WITH   MIGHT.  11 

up  a  thimbleful  of  the  ocean,  bnt  what  if  the  thimble  be 
endowed  with  a  power  of  expansion  which  has  no  term 
known  to  men  ?  May  it  not,  then,  be  that  some  time  or 
other  it  shall  be  able  to  hold  so  much  of  the  infinite  depth 
as  now  seems  a  dream  too  andacious  to  be  realised  ? 

So  it  is  with  us  and  God.  He  lets  us  come  into  the 
vaults,  as  it  were,  where  in  piles  and  masses  the  ingots  of 
uncoined  and  uncounted  gold  are  stored  and  stacked ;  and 
He  says,  "  Take  as  much  as  you  like  to  carry."  There  is 
no  limit  except  the  riches  of  His  glory. 

And  now,  dear  friends,  remember  that  this  great  gift, 
offered  to  each  of  us,  is  offered  on  conditions.  To  you 
professing  Christians  especially  I  speak.  You  will  never 
get  it  unless  you  want  it,  and  some  of  you  do  not  want  it. 
There  are  plenty  of  people  in  this  chapel  at  this  moment 
who  call  themselves  Christian  men,  that  would  not  for 
the  life  of  them  know  what  to  do  with  this  great  gift  if 
they  had  it.  You  will  get  it  if  you  desire  it.  "  Ys  have 
not  because  ye  ask  not." 

Oh  I  when  one  contrasts  the  largeness  of  Qod*8  promises 
and  the  miserable  contradiction  to  them  which  the  average 
Christian  life  of  this  generation  presents,  what  can  we  say  ? 
"  Hath  His  mercy  clean  gone  for  ever  ?  Doth  His  promise 
fail  for  evermore  ?'*  Ye  weak  Christian  people,  bom 
weakling  and  weak  ever  since,  as  so  many  of  you  are,  open 
your  mouths  wide.  Rise  to  the  height  of  the  expectations 
and  the  desires  which  it  is  our  sin  not  to  cherish  ;  and  be 
sure  of  this,  as  we  ask  so  shall  we  receive.  '*  Ye  are  not 
straitened  in  God.**  Alas  1  alas  i  *'  ye  are  straitened  in 
yourselves.** 

And  mind,  there  must  be  self-suppression  if  there  is  to 
be  the  triumph  of  a  Divine  power  in  you.  You  cannot 
fight  with  both  classes  of  weapons.  The  human  must  die 
if  the  Divine  is  to  live.  The  life  of  nature,  dependence 
on  self,  must  b«  weakened  and  snbdned  if  the  life  of  Qod 


12  STRENGTHENED  WITH  MIGHT. 

is  to  overcome  and  to  fill  yoiu  Yon  must  be  able  to  iay 
"  Not  I !  "or  you  will  never  be  able  to  say  "  Christ  liveth 
in  me."  The  patriarch  that  overcame  halted  on  his  thigh  ; 
and  all  the  life  of  nature  was  lamed  and  made  impotent 
that  the  life  of  grace  might  prevail.  So  crush  self  by  the 
power  and  for  the  sake  of  the  Christ,  if  you  would  that 
the  Spirit  should  bear  rule  over  you. 

See  to  it,  too,  that  you  use  what  yon  have  of  that  Divine 
Spirit.  *'  To  him  that  hath  shall  be  given."  What  is  the 
use  of  more  water  being  sent  down  the  mill  lade,  if  the 
water  that  does  come  to  it  all  runs  away  at  the  bottom, 
and  none  of  it  goes  over  the  wheel  ?  Use  the  power  you 
have,  and  power  will  come  to  the  faithful  steward  of 
what  he  possesses.  He  that  is  faithful  m  a  little  shall  get 
much  to  be  faithful  over.  Ask  and  use,  and  the  ancient 
thanksgiving  may  still  come  from  our  lips.  **  In  the  day 
when  I  cried,  Thou  answeredst  me,  and  itrengthenedit 
aie  with  strength  in  my  •ouL'* 


THE  INDWELLING  CHRIST. 


SERMON  n. 


THE  INDWELLINO  OHBIST. 

"  That  Christ  may  dwell  in  joxu  hearta  by  faith  |  •        f«  being  root«d  and  groandod 
In  l0T«."— Eph.  ill.  17. 

We  have  here  the  second  step  of  the  great  staircase  by 
which  Panrs  fervent  desires  for  his  Ephesian  friends 
climbed  towards  that  wonderful  snmmit,  of  his  prayers — 
which  is  ever  approached,  never  reached,—**  that  ye  might 
be  filled  with  all  the  fnlness  of  Qod." 

Two  remarks  of  an  expository  character,  will  prepare 
the  way  for  the  lessons  of  these  verses.  The  first  is  as  to 
the  relation  of  this  clanse  to  the  preceding.  It  might 
appear  at  first  sight  to  be  simply  parallel  with  the  former, 
expressing  substantially  the  same  ideas  under  a  somewhat 
different  aspect.  The  operation  of  the  strength-giving 
Spirit  in  the  inner  man  might  very  naturally  be  supposed 
to  be  equivalent  to  the  dwelling  of  Christ  in  our  hearts 
by  faith.  So  many  commentators  do,  in  fact,  take  it ;  but 
I  think  that  the  two  ideas  may  be  distinguished,  and  that 
we  are  to  see  in  the  words  of  our  text,  as  I  have  said,  the 
second  step  in  this  prayer,, which  is  in  some  sense  a  result 
of  the  "strengthening  with  might  by  the  Spirit  in  the 
inner  man.**  I  need  not  enter  in  detail  into  the  reasons 
for  taking  this  view  of  the  connection  of  the  «Uiim, 


16  TBM  INDWELLING  CHBI3T. 

which  if  obTiously  in  accordance  with  the  dlmbing-np 
■tractnre  of  the  whole  rene.  It  is  enongh  to  point  it  ool 
•B  the  basis  of  m j  further  remarks. 

And  now  the  second  obserration  with  which  I  will 
tronble  you,  before  I  come  to  deal  with  the  thoughta  of 
the  verse,  is  as  to  the  connection  of  the  last  words  of  it 
Yon  may  observe  that  in  reading  the  words  of  my  tert  I 
omitted  the  "that"  which  stands  in  the  centre  of  th« 
Terse.  I  did  so,  because  the  words,  **Ye  being  rooted 
and  grotmded  in  love,"  in  the  original,  do  stand  before  the 
**that,"  and  are  distinctly  separated  by  it  from  the  snb- 
sequent  clause.  They  ought  not  therefore,  to  be  shifted 
forward  into  it,  as  our  translators  and  the  Re\^I-ed  Version 
have,  I  think,  unf  ortmiately  done,  imless  there  were  some 
absolute  necessity  either  from  meaning  or  from  con- 
striction. 1  do  not  think  that  this  is  the  (SLse  ;  but  on  the 
contrary,  if  they  are  carried  forward  into  the  next  clause, 
which  describes  the  result  of  Ghrist*s  dwelling  in  our 
hearts  by  faith,  they  break  the  logical  flow  of  the  sentence 
by  mixing  together  result  and  occasion.  And  so  I  attach 
ihem  to  the  first  part  of  this  verse,  and  take  them  to  ex- 
press at  once  the  consequence  of  Christ's  dwelling  in  the 
heart  by  faith,  and  the  preparation  or  occasion  for  our 
being  able  to  comprehend  and  know  the  love  of  Christ 
which  psfiseth  knowledge.  Now  that  is  all  with  which  I 
need  trouble  you  in  the  way  of  explanation  of  the  mean- 
ing of  the  words.  Let  as  come  now  to  deal  with  their 
■nbetanoe. 

I. — Considei'  the  Indwelling  of  Christ,  u  desired  by 
the  Apostle  for  all  Christians. 

To  begin  with,  let  me  say  in  the  plainest,  simplest, 
strongest  way  that  I  can,  that  that  dwelling  of  Christ  in 
the  believing  heart  is  to  be  regarded  as  being  i  plain 
literal  fact 

To  a  man  who  does  not  believe  in  the  Divinity  of  Jesus 


THB  lUDWELhUSQ  CHRIST.  17 

Chrttt,  •<  eoTine  that  U  nonsease^  bat  to  those  of  oi  who 
do  see  in  Him  the  manifeited  ineamato  God,  there 
ought  to  be  no  difficulty  in  accepting  this  as  the  simple 
literal  force  of  the  words  before  us,  that  in  every  soul 
where  faith,  howsoever  feeble,  has  been  exercised,  there 
Jeeus  Christ  does  verily  abide. 

It  is  not  to  be  weakened  down  inw  any  notion  of  par- 
ticipation in  His  likeness,  sympathy  with  His  character, 
submission  to  His  influence,  following  His  example, 
listening  to  His  instruction,  or  the  like.  A  dead  Plato 
may  so  influence  his  followers,  but  that  is  not  how  a 
liTlng  Christ  influences  His  disciples.  What  is  meant  if 
no  mere  influence  derived  but  separable  from  Him,  how- 
ever blessed  and  gracious  that  influence  might  be,  but  it 
is  the  presence  of  His  own  self,  exercising  influences 
which  are  inseparable  from  His  presence,  and  only  to  be 
realised  when  He  dwells  in  us. 

I  think  that  Christian  people  as  a  rule  do  far  too  little 
turn  their  attention  to  this  aspect  of  the  Gospel  teaching, 
and  concentrate  their  thoughts  far  too  much  upon  that 
which  is  unspeakably  precious  in  itself,  but  does  not  ex- 
haust  all  that  Christ  is  to  us,  viz.,  the  work  that  He 
wrought  for  us  upon  Calvary ;  or  to  take  a  step  funh», 
the  work  that  He  is  now  carrying  on  for  tis  as  our  Inter- 
•eesor  and  Advocate  in  the  Heavens.  You  who  listen  to 
me  Sunday  after  Sunday  will  not  suspect  me  of  seeking 
to  minimise  either  of  th^e  two  aspects  of  our  Lord*! 
mission  and  operation,  but  I  do  believe  that  very  largely 
the  glad  thought  of  an  indwelling  Christ  Who  actually 
abides  and  works  in  our  hearts,  and  is  not  only  for  us  in 
the  Heavens,  or  with  us  by  some  kind  of  impalpable  and 
metaphorical  presence,  but  in  simple,  that  is  to  say,  in 
■piritusl  reality  is  in  our  spirits,  has  faded  away  from 
the  consciousnesB  of  the  Christian  Church. 

And  so  we  are  called   "^ mystics"   when   we  presek 

0 


18  THB  INDWELLINQ  OHBIST. 

Christ  in  the  heart.  Ah !  brother,  unless  your  Christianity 
be  in  the  good  deep  sense  of  the  word  **  mystical/'  it  ii 
mechanical,  which  is  worse.  I  preach,  and  rejoice  that  I 
have  to  preach,  a  "  Christ  that  died,  yea !  rather  that  is 
risen  again ;  Who  is  even  at  the  right  hand  of  Gk>d,  Who 
also  maketh  intercession  for  ns.**  Nor  do  I  stop  there, 
bat  I  preach  a  Christ  that  is  in  ns,  dwelling  in  onr  hearts 
if  we  be  His  at  all. 

Well,  then,  farther  observe  that  the  special  emphasis  of 
the  prayer  here  is  that  this  "  indwelling  "  may  be  an  un- 
broken and  permanent  one.  Any  of  you  who  can  consolt 
the  original  for  yoorselyes  will  see  that  the  Apostle  here 
uses  a  compound  word  which  conveys  the  idea  of 
intensity  and  continuity.  What  he  desires,  then,  is  not 
merely  that  these  Ephesian  Christians  may  have  occa- 
sional visits  of  the  indwelling  Lord,  or  that  at  some  lofty 
moments  of  spiritual  enthusiasm  they  may  be  conscious 
that  He  is  with  them,  but  that  always,  in  an  unbroken 
line  of  deep,  calm  receptiveness,  they  may  possess,  and 
know  that  they  possess,  an  indwelling  Saviour. 

And  this,  I  think,  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  we  may 
and  must  distinguish  between  the  apparently  very  simi- 
lar petition  in  the  previous  verse,  about  which  we  were 
speaking  last  Sunday,  and  the  petition  which  is  now 
occupying  us  ;  for,  as  I  shall  have  to  show  you,  it  is  only  as 
"  strengthened  with  His  might  by  His  Spirit  in  the  inner 
man,"  that  we  are  capable  of  the  continuous  abiding  of  that 
Lord  within  us. 

Oh !  what  a  contrast  to  that  idea  of  a  perpetual  unbroken 
inhabitation  of  Jesus  in  our  spirits  and  to  our  conscious- 
ness is  presented  by  our  ordinary  life !  "  Why  shouldst 
thou  be  as  a  wayfaring  man  that  turneth  aside  to  tarry 
for  a  night  ?"  may,  well  be  the  utterance  of  the  average 
Christian.  We  might,  with  unbroken  blessedness,  possess 
Him  in  our  hearts,  and  instead,  we  have  only  *Wisitt 


THB  DTDWELLINO  CHRIST.  19 

ihort  and  far  between.*^  Alas,  alas,  how  often  do  w« 
drive  away  that  indwelling  Christ,  because  onr  hearts  are 
"  foul  with  Bin,'*  so  that  He 

\  "C2an  bat  listen  at  the  gat* 

I    4Dd  hear  the  hoasehold  Jar  wfthln.* 

Christian  men  and  women!  here  is  the  ideal  of  our 
lives,  capable  of  being  approximated  to  (if  not  absolutely 
In  its  entirety  reached)  with  far  more  perfection  than  it 
ever  has  been  before  by  us.  There  might  be  a  line  of 
light  never  interrupted  running  all  through  our  religioui 
experience.  Instead  of  that  there  is  a  light  point  here, 
and  a  great  gapof  darkness  there,  like  the  straggling  lamps 
by  the  wayside  in  the  half-lighted  squalid  suburbs  of 
some  great  city.  Is  that  your  Christian  life,  broken  by 
many  interruptions,  and  having  often  sounding  through 
it  the  solemn  words  of  the  retreating  Divinity  which  the 
old  profound  legend  tells  us  were  heard  the  night  before 
the  Temple  on  Zion  was  burnt : — "  Let  us  depart  ?"  "  I 
will  arise  and  return  unto  My  place  till  they  acknowledge 
their  oftences.*'  God  means  and  wishes  that  Christ  may 
continuously  dwell  in  our  hearts.  Doet  He  to  your  own 
consciousness  dwell  in  yours  ? 

And  then  the  last  thought  connected  with  this  first  part 
of  my  subject  is  that  the  heart  strengthened  by  the  Spirit 
is  fitted  to  be  the  Temple  of  the  indwelling  Christ.  How 
shall  we  prepare  the  chamber  for  such  a  guest  ?  How 
shall  some  poor  occupant  of  some  wretched  hut  by  the 
way-side,  fit  it  up  for  the  abode  of  a  prince  ?  The  answer 
lies  in  these  words  that  precede  my  text.  You  cannot 
strengthen  the  rafters  and  lift  the  roof  and  adorn  the  halls 
and  furnish  the  floor  in  a  manner  befitting  the  coming  of 
the  King ;  but  you  can  turn  to  that  Divine  Spirit  who 
will  expand  and  embellish  and  invigorate  your  whole 
spirit,  and  make  it  capable  of  receiving  the  indwelling 
Christ. 

Ct 


20  THB  UfDWBLLINO  CHRIST. 

That  these  two  things  which  are  here  considered  ai 
cause  and  effect  may,  in  another  aspect,  be  considered  as 
but  varying  phases  of  the  same  truth  is  only  part  of  the 
depth  and  felicity  of  the  teaching  that  is  here.  For  if  yo» 
come  to  look  more  deeply  into  it,  the  Spirit  that  strength- 
eneth  with  might  is  the  Spirit  of  Christ ;  and  He  dwells 
in  men's  hearts  by  His  own  Spirit.  So  that  the  apparent 
confusion,  arising  from  what  in  other  places  are  regarded 
as  identical  being  here  conceived  as  cause  and  effect,  is 
no  confusion  at  all,  but  is  explained  and  vindicated  by  the 
deep  truth  that  nothing  but  the  indwelling  of  the  Christ 
can  fit  for  the  indwelling  of  the  Christ.  The  lesser  gift 
of  His  presence  prepares  for  the  greater  measure  of  it ;  the 
transitory  inhabitation  for  the  more  permanent.  Where 
He  comes  in  smaller  measure  He  opens  the  door  and 
makes  the  heart  capable  of  His  own  more  entire  indwell- 
ing. "Unto  him  that  hath  shall  be  given.**  It  is  Christ 
in  the  heart  that  makes  the  hes^  fit  for  Christ  to  dwell  in 
the  heart.  You  cannot  do  it  by  your  own  power  ;  turn  to 
Him  and  let  Him  make  yon  temples  meet  for  Himself. 

II. — So  now,  in  the  second  place,  notice  the  open  door 
through  which  the  Christ  comes  in  to  dwell — "  that  He 
may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith." 

More  accurately  we  may  render  •*  through  faith,"  and 
might  even  venture  to  suppose  that  the  thought  of  faith 
as  an  open  door  through  which  Christ  passes  into  the 
heart,  floated  half  distinctly  before  the  Apostle's  mind. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  at  all  events  faith  is  here  represented 
as  the  means  or  condition  through  which  this  dwelling 
takes  effect.  Yon  have  but  to  believe  in  Him  and  He 
!  comes,  drawn  from  Heaven,  floating  down  on  a  sunbeam, 
^as  it  were,  and  enters  into  the  heart  and  abides  there. 

Trust,  which  is  faith,  is  self -distrust.  "  I  dwell  in  the 
\  high  and  holy  place,  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  contrite 
I  and  hnmble  spirit."    Rivers  do  not  ran  on  the  monntaiB 


THB  INDWBIililNG  0HBI8T.  SI 

(ops,  bnt  down  in  the  yalleys.    So  the  heart  that  is  lifted 

np  and  self-complacent  has  no  dew  of  His  blessing  resting 
upon  it,  but  has  the  curse  of  Qilboa  adhering  to  its  barren- 
ness ;  bnt  the  low  lands,  the  humble  and  the  lowly  hearts, 
are  they  in  which  the  waters  that  go  softly,  scoop  their 
course,  and  di£^use  their  blessings.  Faith  is  self-distrust. 
Self-distrust  brings  the  Christ  " 

Faith  is  desire.  Never,  never  in  the  history  of  the 
world  has  it  been  or  can  it  be  that  a  longing  towards  Him 
shall  be  a  longing  thrown  back  unsatisfied  upon  itself. 
Ton  have  but  to  trust,  and  you  possess.  We  open  th€ 
door  for  the  entrance  of  Christ  by  the  simple  act  of  faith, 
and  blessed  be  His  name  !  He  can  squeeze  Himself  through 
s  very  little  chink,  and  He  does  not  require  that  the  gates  / 
should  be  flung  wide  open  in  order  that,  with  some  of  / 
His  blessings,  He  may  come  in. 

Mystical  Christianity  of  the  false  sort  has  much  to  say 
about  the  indwelling  of  God  in  the  soul,  but  it  spoils  aU 
its  teaching  by  insisting  upon  it  that  the  condition  on 
which  God  dwells  in  the  soul  is  the  soul's  purifying  itself 
to  receive  Him.  But  you  cannot  cleanse  your  hearts  so  as 
to  bring  Christ  into  them,  you  must  let  Him  come  and 
cleanse  them  by  the  process  of  His  coming,  and  fit  them 
thereby  for  His  own  indwelling.  And,  asssuredly,  He 
will  so  eome,  purging  us  from  our  evil  and  abiding  in  onr 
hearts. 

But  do  not  forget  that  the  faith  which  brings  Christ  in- 
to the  spirit  must  be  a  faith  which  works  by  love  if  it  is 
to  keep  Christ  in  the  spirit.  You  cannot  bring  that  Lord 
Into  your  h<9arts  by  anything  that  you  do.  The  man  that 
cleanses  his  own  soul  by  his  own  strength,  and  so  expects 
to  draw  God  into  it,  has  made  the  mistake  which  Christ 
pointed  out  when  He  told  us  that  when  the  unclean  spirit 
is  gone  out  of  a  man  he  leaves  his  house  empty ^  though  it 
be  swept  and  garnished.    Moral  reformation  may  turn  out  \ 


22  THB  INDWELLING  CHRIST. 

1  the  aeTils,  it  will  never  bring  in  God.    And  in  the  emptl- 

*  ness  of  the  swept  and  garnished  heart  there  is  an  invitation 
to  the  seven  to  come  back  again  and  fill  it. 

And  whilst  that  is  true,  remember,  on  the  other  hand, 

that  a  Christian  man  can  drive  away  his  Master  by  evil 

I   works.    The  sweet  song-birds  and  the  honey-making  beet 

\  are  said  always  to  desert  a  neighbourhood  before  a  pesti- 

\  lence  breaks  out  in  it.    And  if  I  may  so  say,  similarly 

I  quick  to  feel  the  first  breath  of  the  pestilence  is  the 

•  presence  of  the  Christ  which  cannot  dwell  with  eviL 
You  bring  Christ  into  your  heart  by  faith,  without  any 
work  at  all ;  you  keep  Him  there  by  a  faith  which  pro- 
duces holiness. 

III.— And  the  last  point  is  the  gifts  of  this  indwelling 
Christ, — "  ye  being,"  or  as  the  words  might  more  accu- 
rately be  translated,  "Ye,  having  been  rooted  and 
grounded  in  love." 

Where  He  comes  He  comes  not  empty-handed.  He 
brings  His  own  love,  and  that,  consciously  received,  pro- 
duces a  corresponding  and  answering  love  in  our  hearts 
to  Him.  So  there  is  no  need  to  ask  the  question  here 
whether  '*  love  "  means  Christ's  love  to  me,  or  my  love  to 
Christ.  From  the  nature  of  the  case  both  are  included, — 
the  recognition  of  His  and  the  response  by  mine  are  the 
result  of  His  entering  into  the  heart.  This  love,  the  re- 
cognition of  His  and  the  response  by  mine,  is  represented 
in  a  lovely  double  metaphor  in  these  words  as  being  at 
once  the  soil  in  which  our  lives  are  rooted  and  grow,  and  the 
foundation  on  which  our  lives  are  built  and  are  steadfast. 

I  have  not  time  to  dwell  upon  these  two  things,  but  let 
me  just  touch  them  for  a  moment.  Where  Christ  abides 
in  a  man's  heart,  love  will  be  the  very  soil  in  which  his 
life  will  be  rooted  and  grow.  That  love  will  be  the  mo- 
tive of  all  service,  it  will  underlie,  as  the  productive 
cause,  all  fruitfulness.    All  goodness  and  all  beauty  will 


THB  INDWELLING  GHBIBT.  23 

b«  its  frail  The  whole  life  will  be  as  a  tree  planted  in 
this  rich  soil.  And  so  the  life  will  grow  not  by  effort 
only,  bnt  as  by  an  inherent  power  drawing  its  nourish- 
ment from  the  soil.  This  is  blessedness.  It  is  Heaven 
upon  earth  that  love  should  be  the  soil  in  which  our  obe- 
dience is  rooted,  and  from  which  we  draw  all  the  nutri- 
ment that  turns  to  flowers  and  fruit. 

Where  Christ  dwells  in  the  heart,  love  will  be  the  founda- 
tion upon  which  our  lives  are  builded  steadfast  and  sure. 
The  blessed  consciousness  of  His  love,  and  the  joyful 
answer  of  my  heart  to  it,  may  become  the  basis  upon 
which  my  whole  being  shall  repose,  the  underlying  thought 
that  gives  security,  serenity,  steadfastness  to  my  else 
fluctuating  life.  I  may  so  plant  myself  upon  Him,  as  that 
In  Him  I  shall  be  strong,  and  then  my  life  will  not  only 
grow  like  a  tree  and  have  its  leaf  green  and  broad,  and 
its  fruit  the  natural  outcome  of  its  vitality,  but  it  will  rise 
like  some  stately  building,  course  by  course,  pillar  by  pilLsr, 
until  at  last  the  shining  topstone  is  set  there.  He  that 
buildeth  on  that  foundation  shall  never  be  confounded. 

For,  remember,  that,  deepest  of  all,  the  words  of  m^ 
text  may  mean  that  the  Incarnate  Personal  Love  becomes 
the  very  soil  in  which  my  life  is  set  and  blossoms,  on 
which  my  life  is  founded. 

"Thoa,  my  Life,  0  let  me  Im       \ 
looted,  grafted,  ballt  In  Thee* 

Christ  is  Love,  and  Love  is  Christ.  He  that  is  rooted 
and  grounded  in  love  has  the  roots  of  his  being,  and  the 
foundation  of  his  life  fixed  and  fastened  in  that  Lord. 

So,  dear  brethren,  go  to  Christ  like  those  two  on  the 
road  to  Em  mans  ;  and  as  Fra  Angelico  has  painted  them 
on  his  convent  wall,  put  out  your  hands  and  lay  them  on 
His,  and  say,  "  Abide  with  us.  Abide  With  us !"  And 
the  answer  will  come  : — "  This  is  my  rest  for  ever ;  here  " 
— myptery  of  love  I — "  will  I  dwell,  for  I  have  desired  it," 
even  the  narrow  room  of  your  poor  heart 


UNKNOWABLE  LOVE  KNOWN  TO  LOVE. 


SERMON  III. 


UNKNOW^iBLE    LOVE    KNOWN    TO    LOVE. 

"That  ye... may  be  able  to  comprelieud  with  all  saints  wliat  is  the  breadth  and 
the  length  and  the  depth  and  height;  and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  which  passeth 
knowledge."— Eph.  iii.  18, 19. 

This  eonstitnteB  th«  third  of  the  petition!  in  thii  great 
prayer  of  Paars,  each  of  which,  as  we  have  had  occasion 
to  see  in  former  sermons,  rises  above,  and  is  a  conseqnence 
of  the  preceding,  and  leads  on  to,  and  is  a  cause  or  occasion 
of  the  subsequent  one. 

The  two  former  petitions  have  been  for  inward  strength 
communicated  by  a  Divine  Spirit,  In  order  that  Christ 
may  dwell  in  our  hearts,  and  so  we  may  be  rooted  and 
grounded  in  love.  The  result  of  these  desires  being  real- 
ised in  our  hearts  is  here  set  forth  in  two  clauses  which 
are  iubstantially  equivalent  in  meaning.  ** To  comprehend  ** 
may  be  taken  as  meaning  nearly  the  same  as  'Ho  know/ 
only  that,  perhaps  the  former  expresses  an  act  more  purely 
Intelleetual.  And,  as  we  shall  see  in  our  next  sermon, 
•the  breadth  and  length  and  depth  and  height"  are  the  un- 
measurable  dimensions  of  the  love  which  in  the  second 
clause  is  described  as  "  passing  knowledge."  I  purpose  to 
deal  with  these  measures  in  a  separate  discourse  and 
therefore  omit  them  from  consideration  now. 


28      UNKNOWABLB  LOVE  KNOWN  TO  LOTB. 

We  have,  then,  mainly  two  thoaghta  here,  the  one,  thai 
only  the  loving  heart  in  which  Christ  dwells  can  know 
the  love  of  Christ ;  and  the  other  that  even  that  heart  can 
not  know  the  love  of  Christ  The  paradox  is  intentional, 
bnt  it  is  intelligible.  Let  me  deal  then,  as  well  at  I  can, 
with  these  two  great  thoughts. 

I. — First,  we  have  this  thought  that  only  the  loving 
heart  can  know  Christ's  love. 

Now  the  Bible  nses  that  word  know  to  express  two 
different  things ;  one  which  we  call  mere  intellectual  per- 
ception ;  or  to  pnt  it  into  plainer  words,  mere  head  know- 
ledge snch  as  a  man  may  have  abont  any  subject  of  study 
and  the  other  a  deep  and  living  experience  which  is  posses- 
sion before  it  ia  knowledge,  and  knowledge  because  it  ia 
possession. 

Now  the  former  of  these  two,  the  knowledge  which  la 
merely  the  work  of  the  understanding,  is  of  course,  inde- 
pendent of  love.  A  man  may  know  all  about  Christ  and 
His  love,  without  one  spark  of  love  in  his  heart.  And 
there  are  thousands  of  people  who,  as  far  as  the  mere  intel- 
lectual understanding  is  concerned,  know  as  much  about 
Jesus  Christ  and  His  love  as  the  saint  who  is  closest  to  tha 
Throne,  and  yet  have  not  one  trace  of  love  to  Christ  in 
them.  That  is  the  kind  of  people  that  a  widely  diffused 
Christianity  and  a  habit  of  hearing  sermons  produce. 
There  are  plenty  of  them  here,  in  this  chapel  this  morning, 
who,  as  far  as  their  heads  are  concerned,  know  quite  as 
much  of  Jesus  Christ  and  His  love  aa  any  of  us  do,  and 
could  talk  about  it  and  argue  about  it,  and  draw  inf  erencea 
from  it,  and  have  got  the  whole  system  of  evangelical 
Christianity  at  their  fingers'  ends.  Ay  I  It  ia  at  their 
fingers'  ends^  it  never  gets  any  nearer  them  than  that 

There  is  a  knowledge  with  which  love  has  nothing  to 
do,  and  it  is  a  knowledge  that  for  many  people  ia  quite 
aufficient    **  Knowledge  pnffeth  up,"  says  tha  Apostla; 


UKKNOWABLB  LOVB  KNOWN  TO  LOVB.  29 

Into  ftn  unwholesome  bnbble  of  self-complacency  that 
will  one  day  be  pricked  and  disappear ;  but "  love  buildeth 
np  " — a  steadfast,  slowly-rising,  solid  fabric.  There  be  two 
kinds  of  knowledge  :  the  mere  rattle  of  notions  in  a  man's 
brain,  like  the  seeds  of  a  withered  poppy-head ;  very 
many,  very  dry,  very  hard  ;  that  will  make  a  noise  when 
yon  shake  it  And  there  is  another  kind  of  knowledge 
which  goes  deep  down  into  the  heart,  and  is  the  only 
knowledge  worth  calling  by  the  name ;  and  that  know- 
ledge is  the  child,  as  my  text  has  it,  of  love. 

Now  let  as  think  about  that  for  a  moment.  Love,  says 
Paul,  is  the  parent  of  all  knowledge.  Well,  now,  can  we  find 
any  illustrations  from  similar  facts  in  other  regions  ?  Yes ! 
I  think  so.  How  do  we  know,  really  know,  any  emotions 
of  any  sort  whatever?  Only  by  experience.  You  may 
talk  for  ever  about  feelings,  and  you  teach  nothing  about 
them  to  those  who  have  not  experienced  them.  The  poets 
of  the  world  have  been  singing  about  love  ever  since  the 
world  began.  But  no  heart  has  learned  what  love  is  from 
even  the  sweetest  and  deepest  songs.  Who  that  is  not  a 
father  can  be  taught  paternal  love  by  words,  or  can  come 
to  a  perception  of  it  by  an  effort  of  mind  ?  And  so  with 
all  other  emotions.  Only  the  lips  that  have  drunk  the 
cup  of  sweetness  or  of  bitterness  can  tell  how  sweet  or 
how  bitter  it  is,  and  even  when  they,  made  wise  by  experi- 
ence, speak  out  their  deepest  hearts,  the  listeners  are  but 
little  the  wiser  unless  they  too  have  been  initiated  in  the 
same  school.  Experience  is  our  only  teacher  in  matters 
of  feeling  and  emotion,  as  in  the  lower  regions  of  taste 
and  appetite.  A  man  must  be  hungry  to  know  what  hun- 
ger is  ;  he  must  taste  honey  or  wormwood  in  order  to 
know  the  taste  of  honey  or  wormwood,  and  in  like  man- 
ner he  cannot  know  sorrow  but  by  feeling  its  ache,  and 
must  love  if  he  would  know  love.  Experience  is  our  only 
teacher,  and  her  school-fees  are  heavy. 


80  UNKHOWABLfl  LOVB  KNOWH  TO  LOYB. 

Just  as  a  blind  man  can  never  be  made  to  nnderstand 
the  glories  of  sunrise,  or  the  light  npon  the  far-off  moun- 
tains ;  just  as  a  deaf  man  may  read  books  about  acoustics, 
bnt  they  will  not  give  him  a  notion  of  what  it  is  to  hear 
Beethoven,  so  we  must  have  love  to  Christ  before  we  know 
what  love  to  Christ  is,  and  we  must  consciously  experi- 
ence the  love  of  Christ  ere  we  know  what  the  love  of 
Christ  is.  We  must  have  love  to  Christ  in  order  to  have  a 
deep  and  living  possession  of  the  love  of  Christ,  though 
reciprocably  it  is  also  true  that  we  must  have  the  love  of 
Christ  known  and  felt  by  our  answering  hearts,  if  we  ar« 
ever  to  love  Him  back  again. 

So  in  all  the  play  and  counterplay  of  love  between  Christ 
and  us,  and  in  all  the  reaction  of  knowledge  and  love 
this  remains  true,  that  we  must  be  rooted  and  grounded  in 
love  ere  we  can  know  love,  and  must  have  Christ  dwell- 
ing in  our  hearts,  in  order  to  that  deep  and  living  posses- 
lion  which,  when  it  is  conscious  of  itself,  is  knowledge, 
and  is  for  ever  alien  to  the  loveless  heart 

H«  mtui  be  loTed,  er*  that  to  700 
He  will  seem  worthy  of  yonr  I0T& 

If  you  want  to  know  the  blessedness  of  the  love  of 
Christ,  love  Him,  and  open. yonr  hearts  for  the  entrance 
of  His  love  to  yon.  Love  is  the  parent  of  the  deep,  true 
knowledge. 

Of  course,  before  we  ean  lore  an  unseen  person  and 
believe  in  his  love,  we  must  know  about  him  by  the 
ordinary  means  by  which  we  learn  about  all  persons  out- 
side the  circle  of  our  sight.  So  before  the  love  which  is 
thus  the  parent  of  deep,  true  knowledge,  there  must  be 
the  knowledge  by  study  and  credence  of  the  record 
concerning  Christ,  which  supplies  the  facts  on  which 
alone  love  can  be  nourished.  The  understanding  has  iti 
part  to  play  in  leading  the  heart  to  lore,  and  then  the 
kMfft  becomes  the  true  teacher.    He  that  loTwth,  knowetk 


ITNKNOWABLB  LOVK  KNOWN  TO  LOVB.  31 

God,  for  God  is  love.  He  that  is  rooted  and  grounded  In 
love  because  Christ  dwells  in  his  heart,  will  be  streng- 
thened to  know  the  love  in  which  he  is  rooted.  The 
Christ  within  us  will  know  the  love  of  Christ.  We  must 
first  "taste,"  and  then  we  shall  "see"  that  the  Lord  is 
good,  as  the  Psalmist  puts  it  with  deep  truth.  First,  the 
appropriation  and  feeding  upon  God,  then  the  clear  per- 
ception by  the  mind  of  the  sweetness  in  the  taste.  First 
the  enjoyment ;  then  the  reflection  on  the  enjoyment. 
First  the  love  ;  and  then  the  consciousness  of  the  love  of 
Christ  possessed  and  the  love  to  Christ  experienced.  The 
heart  must  be  grounded  in  love  that  the  man  may  know 
the  love  which  passeth  knowledge. 

Then  notice  that  there  is  also  here  another  condition 
for  this  deep  and  blessed  knowledge  laid  down  in  these 
words,  "That  ye  may  be  able  to  comprehend  with  all 
saints*^  That  is  to  say,  our  knowledge  of  the  love  of 
Jesus  Christ  depends  largely  on  our  sanctity.  If  we  are 
pure  we  shall  know.  If  we  were  wholly  devoted  to  Him 
we  should  wholly  know  His  love  to  us,  and  in  the 
measure  in  which  we  are  pure  and  holy  we  shall  know  it. 
This  heart  of  ours  is  like  a  reflecting  telescope,  the  least 
breath  upon  the  mirror  of  which  will  cause  all  the  starry 
sublimities  that  it  should  shadow  forth  to  fade  and  be- 
come dim.  The  slightest  moisture  in  the  atmosphere, 
though  it  be  quite  imperceptible  where  we  stand,  will 
be  dense  enough  to  shut  out  the  fair,  shining,  snowy 
summits  that  girdle  the  horizon  and  to  leave  nothing 
visible  but  the  lowliness  and  commonplaceness  of  the 
prosaic  plain. 

If  you  want  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  first  of  all,  that 
love  must  purify  your  soiils.  But  then  you  must  keep 
your  souls  pure,  assured  of  this,  that  only  the  single  eye 
is  full  of  light,  and  that  they  who  are  not  "  saints  "  grope 
in  the  dark  even  at  mid-day,  and  whilst  drenched  by  th« 


S8  UNKNOWABLB   LOVS  K190WN  TO  LOVB. 

■onshine  of  His  1ot«,  are  nnconscioaa  of  it  altogether. 
And  so  "we  get  that  miserable  and  mysterions  tragedy  men 
and  women  walking  through  life,  as  many  of  you  are 
doing,  in  the  very  blaze  and  focus  of  Christ's  love,  and 
never  beholding  it  nor  knowing  anything  about  it. 

Observe  again  the  beginning  of  this  path  of  knowledge, 
which  we  have  thus  traced.  There  must  be,  says  my  text, 
an  indwelling  Christ,  and  lo  an  experience,  deep  and 
stable,  of  His  love,  and  then  we  shall  know  the  love 
which  we  thus  experience.  But  how  comes  that  indwell- 
ing? That  is  the  question  for  us.  The  knowledge  of 
His  love  is  blessedness,  is  peace,  is  love,  is  everything ; 
as  we  shall  see  in  considering  the  last  stage  of  this  prayer. 
That  knowledge  arises  from  our  fellowship  with  and  our 
possession  of  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Jesus  Christ. 
How  does  that  fellowship  with,  and  possession  of  the 
love  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ,  come  ?  That  is  the  all-im- 
portant question.  What  is  the  beginning  of  everything? 
**  That  Christ  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith.**  There 
is  the  gate  through  which  you  and  I  may  come,  and  by 
which  we  must  come  if  we  are  to  come  at  all  into  the 
possession  and  perception  of  Christ's  great  love.  Here  is 
the  path  of  knowledge.  First  of  all  there  must  be  the 
simple  historical  knowledge  of  the  facts  of  Christ's  life 
and  death  for  us,  with  the  Scripture  teaching  of  their 
meaning  and  power.  And  then  we  must  turn  these 
truths  from  mere  notions  into  life.  It  is  not  enough  to 
know  the  love  that  God  has  to  us,  in  that  lower  sense  of 
the  word  "  knowledge."  Many  of  you  know  that,  who 
never  got  any  blessing  out  of  it  all  your  days,  and  never 
will,  unless  you  change.  Besides  the  "  knowing  "  there 
must  be  the  "  believing  "  of  the  love.  You  must  translate 
the  notion  into  a  living  fact  in  your  experience.  Yon 
must  pass  from  the  simple  work  of  understanding  th« 
Gospel  to  the  higher  act  of  faith.    You  must  not  be  con 


UKKNOWABLB  LOVB  KNOWN  TO  LOT!.  83 

UnUd  with  knowing,  you  mnst  trnst.  And  if  jon  have 
don«  that  all  the  rest  will  follow,  and  the  little,  narrow, 
low  doorway  of  humble  Belf-distrnsting  faith,  through 
which  a  man  creeps  on  hii  knees,  leaving  ontside  all  his 
■in  and  his  burden,  opens  out  into  the  temple  palace  : — 
the  large  place  in  which  Christ's  1ot«  is  imparted  to  the 
lonl. 

Brethren,  this  doctrine  of  my  text  ought  to  be  for  every 
one  of  us  a  joy  and  a  gospel.  There  is  no  royal  road  into 
the  sweetness  and  the  depth  of  Christ's  love,  for  the  wise 
OP  the  prudent.  The  understanding  is  no  more  the  organ 
for  apprehending  the  love  of  Christ  than  is  the  ear  the 
organ  for  perceiving  light,  or  the  heart  the  organ  for  learn- 
ing mathematics.  Blessed  be  God  1  the  highest  gifts  are 
not  bestowed  upon  the  clever  people,  on  the  men  of 
genius  and  the  gifted  ones,  the  cultivated  and  the 
refined,  but  they  are  open  for  all  men  ;  and  when  we  say 
that  love  is  the  parent  of  knowledge  and  that  the  condi. 
tion  of  knowing  the  depths  of  Christ's  heart  is  simple  love 
which  is  the  child  of  faith,  we  are  only  saying  in  other 
words  what  the  Master  embodied  in  His  thanksgiving 
prayer,  **  I  thank  Thee,  Father !  Lord  of  Heaven  and 
earth,  because  Thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise 
and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes." 

And  that  is  so,  not  because  Christianity,  being  a  foolish 
system,  can  only  address  itself  to  fools  ;  not  because 
Christianity,  contradicting  wisdom,  cannot  expect  to  be 
received  by  the  wise  and  the  cultured,  but  because  a  man's 
brains  have  as  little  to  do  with  his  trustful  acceptance  of 
the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  as  a  man's  eyes  have  to  do  with 
his  capacity  of  hearing  a  voice.  Therefore,  seeing  that 
the  wise  and  prudent,  and  the  cultured,  and  the  clever, 
and  the  men  of  genius  are  always  the  minority  of  the  race, 
let  us  vulgar  folk  that  are  neither  wise,  nor  clever,  nor 
•nltored,  nor  gemuses,  be  thankful  that  all  that  has  noth- 

D 


34  UNKNOWABLE  LOVE  KNOWN  TO  LOVfl. 

ing  to  do  with  oicr  power  of  knowing  and  possessing  th« 
best  wisdom  and  the  highest  treasures,  but  that  upon  thii 
path  the  wayfaring  man  though  a  fool  shall  not  err,  and 
all  narrow  foreheads  and  limited  understandings,  and 
poor,  simple  uneducated  people  as  well  as  philosophers 
and  geniuses  have  to  learn  love  by  their  hearts  and  not 
by  their  heads,  and  by  a  sense  of  need  and  a  humble  trust 
and  a  daily  experience  have  to  appropriate  and  suck  out 
the  blessing  that  lies  in  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ.  Blessed 
be  His  name  I  The  end  of  all  aristocracies  of  culture 
and  superciliousness  of  intellect,  lies  in  that  great  truth 
that  we  possess  the  deepest  knowledge  and  highest  wis- 
dom when  we  love  and  by  our  love. 

II. — Now  a  word  in  the  next  place  as  to  the  other 
thought  here,  that  not  even  the  loving  heart  can  know  the 
love  of  Christ. 

"  It  passeth  knowledge,"  says  my  text.  Now  I  do  not 
suppose  that  the  paradox  here  of  knowing  the  love  of 
Christ  which  "  passeth  knowledge  "  is  to  be  explained  by 
taking  "  know  "  and  "  knowledge "  in  the  two  different 
senses  which  I  have  already  refeiTed  to,  so  as  that  we  may 
experience,  and  know  by  conscious  experience,  that  love 
which  the  mere  understanding  is  incapable  of  grasping. 
That  of  course  is  an  explanation  which  might  be  defended, 
but  I  take  it  that  it  is  much  truer  to  the  4postle*s  mean- 
ing to  suppose  that  he  uses  the  words  "know"  and 
"  knowledge  "  both  times  in  the  same  sense.  And  so  we 
get  familiar  thoughts  which  I  touch  upon  very  briefly. 

Our  knowledge  of  Christ's  love,  though  real,  is  in- 
complete, and  must  always  be  so.  You  and  I  believe,  I 
hope,  that  Christ's  love  is  not  a  man's  love  ;  or  at  least 
that  it  is  more  than  a  man's  love.  We  believe  that  it  is 
the  flowing  out  to  us  of  the  love  of  God,  that  all  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Divine  heart  pours  itself  through  that  narrow 
channel  of  the  human  nature  of  our  Lord,  and  therefore 
ihaX  the  flow  is  endless  and  the  Fountain  inflnlte. 


mSTKNOWABLX  LOVB   KNOWN  TO  LOVB.  35 

I  mppose  I  do  not  need  to  show  yon  that  it  is  possible 
for  people  to  have,  and  that  in  fact  we  do  possess  a  real,  a 
▼alid,  a  reliable  knowledge  of  that  which  is  infinite  ;  al- 
though we  possess,  as  a  matter  of  course,  no  adequate  and 
complete  knowledge  of  it.  But  I  only  remind  you  that 
we  have  before  us  in  Christ's  love  something  which,  though 
the  understanding  is  not  by  itself  able  to  grasp  it,  yet  the 
understanding  led  by  the  heart  can  lay  hold  of,  and  can 
find  in  it  infinite  treasures.  We  can  lay  our  poor  hands 
on  His  love  as  a  child  might  lay  its  tiny  palm  upon  the 
base  of  some  great  cliff,  and  hold  that  love  in  a  real  grasp 
of  a  real  knowledge  and  certitude,  but  we  cannot  put  our 
hands  round  it  and  feel  that  we  comprehend  as  well  as 
apprehend.     Let  us  be  thankful  that  we  cannot. 

His  love  can  only  become  to  us  a  subject  of  knowledge 
M  it  reveals  itself  in  its  manifestations.  Yet  after  even 
these  manifestations,  it  remains  unuttered  and  unutterable 
even  by  the  Cross  and  grave,  even  by  the  glory  and  the 
throne.  **  It  is  as  high  as  Heaven  ;  what  canst  thou  do  ? 
deeper  than  hell ;  what  canst  thou  know  ?  The  measure 
thereof  is  longer  than  the  earth,  and  broader  than  the  sea.** 

We  have  no  measure  by  which  we  can  translate  into 
the  terms  of  our  experience,  and  so  bring  within  the  grasp 
of  our  minds,  what  was  the  depth  of  the  step  which 
Christ  took  at  the  impulse  of  His  love,  from  the  Throne 
to  the  Cross.  We  know  not  what  he  forewent ;  we  know 
not,  nor  ever  shall  know,  whet  depths  of  darkness  and 
ioul-agony  He  passed  through  at  the  bidding  of  His  all- 
enduring  love  to  us.  Nor  do  we  know  the  consequences 
•f  that  great  work  of  emptying  Himself  of  His  glory. 
We  have  no  means  by  which  we  can  estimate  the  darknesa 
and  the  depth  of  the  misery  from  which  we  have  been 
delivered,  nor  the  height  and  the  radiance  of  the  glory  to 
which  we  are  to  be  lifted.  And  until  we  can  tell  and 
by  our  compasses  both  of  these  two  extremeg  of 

D  t 


36      UNKNOWABLB  LOVB  KNOWN  TO  LOVB. 

possible  hnman  fate,  till  we  have  gone  down  into  the 
deepest  abyss  of  a  bottomless  pit  of  growing  alienation 
and  misery,  and  up  above  the  highest  reach  of  all  unending 
progress  into  light  and  glory  and  God-likeness,  we  have 
not  stretched  our  compasses  wide  enough  to  touch  the 
two  poles  of  this  great  sphere,  the  infinite  love  of  Jesus 
Christ,  So  we  bow  before  it,  we  know  that  we  possess  it 
with  a  knowledge  more  sure  and  certain,  more  deep  and 
valid,  than  our  knowledge  of  aught  but  ourselves  ;  but  yet 
it  is  beyond  our  grasp,  and  towers  above  us  inaccessible  in 
the  altitude  of  its  glory,  and  deep  beneath  ni  in  the  pro- 
fundity of  its  condescension. 

And,  in  like  manner,  wo  may  lay  that  this  known 
love  passes  knowledge,  inasmuch  as  our  experience 
of  it  can  never  exhaust  it.  We  are  like  the  settlers  on 
some  great  island  continent — as,  for  instance, .  on  the 
Australian  continent  for  many  years  after  its  first  discovery 
— a  thin  fringe  of  population  round  the  sea-board  here 
and  there,  and  all  the  bosom  of  the  land  untraversed  and 
unknown.  So  after  all  experiences  of  and  all  blessed 
participation  in  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ  which  come  to 
each  of  us  by  our  faith,  we  have  but  skimmed  the 
■nrface,  but  touched  the  edges,  but  received  a  drop  of 
what  if  it  should  come  upon  us  in  fulness  of  flood  like  • 
Niagara  of  love  would  overwhelm  our  spirit!. 

So  we  have  within  our  reach  not  only  the  treasure  of 
creatural  affections  which  bring  gladness  into  life  when 
they  come,  and  darkness  over  it  when  they  depart ;  we 
have  not  only  human  love  which,  if  I  may  so  say,  is  always 
lifting  its  finger  to  its  lips  in  the  act  of  bidding  us  adieu  ; 
but  we  may  possess  a  love  which  will  abide  with  us  for 
ever.  Men  die,  Christ  lives.  We  can  exhaust  men,  w% 
cannot  exhaust  Christ.  We  can  follow  other  objects  of 
pursuit  all  of  which  have  limitation  to  their  power  of 
Mtisfying  and  pall  upon  the  jaded  sense  sooner  or  later* 


UNKNOWABLB  LOVS  KNOWN  TO  LOVK.  37 

or  sooner  or  later  are  wrenched  away  from  the  aehlng 
heart.  Bnt  here  la  a  love  into  which  we  can  penetrate 
very  deep  and  fear  no  exhanstion  ;  a  sea  into  which  we 
can  cast  ourflelveg,  nor  dread  that  like  some  rash  diver 
flinging  himself  into  shallow  water  where  he  thought 
there  was  depth,  we  may  be  bruised  and  wounded.  We 
may  find  in  Christ  the  endless  love  that  an  immortal 
heart  requires.  Enter  by  the  low  door  of  faith,  and  your 
finite  heart  will  have  the  joy  of  an  infinite  love  for  its 
possession,  and  your  mortal  life  will  rise  transfigured  into 
an  immortal  and  growing  participation  in  the  immortal 
Lova  of  Ike  iudwalling  and  tnaxhaoatibU  Ohriit 


THE  PARADOX  OF  LOVERS  MEASURE. 


SERMON  IV. 


THE  PARADOX  OF  L0VF8  MEASUBB, 
"The  breadth,  snd  leng^th,  and  depth,  and  height."— Bph.  111.  li. 

Of  what  ?  There  can,  I  think,  be  no  doubt  as  to  the 
Bnswer.  The  next  clause  is  evidently  the  continuation  of 
the  idea  beflnin  in  that  of  our  text,  and  it  runs  ; "  and  to  know 
the  love  of  Christ  which  passeth  knowledge."  It  is  the 
immeasurable  measure,  then  ;  the  boundlesi  bounds  and 
dimensions  of  the  love  of  Christ  which  fire  the  Apostle*i 
thoughts  here.  Of  course,  he  had  no  separate  idea  in  his 
mind  attaching  to  each  of  these  measures  of  magnitude, 
but  he  gathered  them  together  simply  to  express  the  one 
thought  of  the  greatness  of  OhrisVa  love.  Depth  and 
height  are  the  same  dimension  measured  from  opposite 
endB.  The  one  begins  at  the  top  and  goes  down,  the 
other  begins  at  the  bottom  and  goes  up,  but  the  surface 
is  the  same  in  either  case.  So  we  have  the  three  dimen* 
tions  of  a  solid  here-^breadth,  length,  and  depth. 

I  suppose  that  I  may  venture  to  use  these  expressions 
with  a  somewhat  different  purpose  from  that  for  which 
the  Apostle  employs  them  ;  and  to  see  in  each  of  them  a 
separate  and  blessed  aapect  of  the  love  of  Qed  in  Jeem 
Ohrift  our  Lord. 


IS       THB  PARADOX  OF  LOVB*S  MBASURI. 

L  What,  then,  Is  the  breadth  of  that  love  f 

It  is  as  broad  as  hnmanity.  As  all  the  stars  lie  in  the 
firmament,  so  all  creatures  rest  in  the  Heaven  of  His  love. 
Mankind  has  many  common  characteristics.  We  all  suffer, 
we  all  sin,  we  all  hunger,  we  all  aspire,  hope,  and  die ;  and, 
blessed  be  God !  we  all  occupy  precisely  the  same  relation 
to  the  Divine  love  which  lies  in  Jesus  Christ.  There 
are  no  step-children  in  God's  great  family,  and  none  of 
them  receive  a  more  grudging  or  a  less  ample  share  of  His 
love  and  goodness  than  every  other.  Far-stretching  as  the 
race,  and  curtaining  it  over  as  some  great  tent  may  enclose 
on  a  festal  day  a  whole  tribe,  the  breadth  of  Christ's  love 
is  the  breadth  of  humanity. 

And  it  is  universal  because  it  is  Divine.  No  human 
mind  can  be  stretched  so  as  to  comprehend  the  whole  of 
the  members  of  mankind,  and  no  human  heart  can  be  so 
emptied  of  self  as  to  be  capable  of  this  absolute  univer- 
•ality  and  impartiality  of  affection.  But  the  intellectual 
difficulties  which  stand  in  the  way  of  the  width  of  our 
affections  and  the  moral  difficulties  which  stand  still  more 
frowningly  and  forbiddingly  in  the  way,  have  no  power 
over  that  love  of  Christ's  which  is  close  and  tender,  and 
clinging  with  all  the  tenderness  and  closeness  and  cling- 
ingness  of  a  human  affection  and  lofty  and  universal  and 
passionless  and  perpetual,  with  all  the  height  and  breadth 
and  calmness  and  eternity  of  a  Divine  heart. 

And  this  broad  love,  broad  as  humanity,  is  not  shallow 
because  it  is  broad.  Our  love  is  too  often  like  the  estuary 
of  some  great  stream  which  runs  deep  and  mighty  as  long 
as  it  is  held  within  narrow  banks,  but  as  soon  as  it  widens 
becomes  slow  and  powerless  and  shallow.  The  intensity 
of  human  affection  varies  inversely  as  its  extension.  A 
universal  philanthropy  is  a  passionless  sentiment.  Bat 
Christ's  love  is  deep  though  it  is  wide,  and  suffers  no  dimi- 
nution because  it  is  shared  amongst  a  multitude.    U  i§ 


THl  PARADOX  OF  LOVB'S  MBABURB.  48 

like  the  great  feast  that  He  Himself  spread  for  &▼• 
thonsand  men,  women,  and  children,  all  seated  at  a  table, 
•*  and  they  did  all  eat  and  were  filled." 

The  whole  love  is  the  property  of  each  recipient  of  it 
He  does  not  love  as  we  do,  who  give  a  part  of  our  heart  tfr 
this  one  and  a  part  to  that  one,  and  share  the  treasure  of 
our  affections  amongst  a  multitude.  All  this  gift  belong! 
to  every  one,  just  as  all  the  sunshine  comes  to  every  eye, 
and  as  every  beholder  sees  the  moon's  path  across  the  dark 
waters,  stretching  from  the  place  where  he  stands  to  the 
centre  of  light. 

This  broad  love,  universal  as  humanity,  and  deep  ai  it 
ii  broad,  is  universal  because  it  is  individual.  You  and  I 
have  to  generalise,  as  we  say,  when  we  try  to  extend  our 
affections  beyond  the  limits  of  household  and  family  and 
personal  friends,  and  the  generalising  is  a  sign  of  weak* 
ness  and  limitation.  Nobody  can  love  an  abstraction,  but 
God's  love  and  Christ's  love  do  not  proceed  in  that  fashion* 
He  individualises,  loving  each  and  therefore  loving  all. 
It  is  because  every  man  has  a  space  in  his  heart  singly  and 
separately  and  conspicuously,  that  all  men  have  a  place 
there.  So  our  task  is  to  individualise  this  broad,  univer- 
ial  love,  and  to  say,  in  the  simplicity  of  a  glad  faith,  "  He 
loved  me  and  gave  Himself  for  me."  The  breadth  is 
world-wide,  and  the  whole  breadth  is  condensed  into,  if 
I  may  so  say,  a  shaft  of  light  which  may  find  its  way 
through  the  narrowest  clink  of  a  single  soul.  There  are 
two  ways  of  arguing  about  the  love  of  Christ,  both  of  them 
Talid,  and  both  of  them  needing  to  be  employed  by  us. 
We  have  a  right  to  say,  "  He  loves  all,  therefore  He  loves 
me."  And  we  have  a  right  to  say,  "  He  loves  me,  there- 
fore He  loves  all."  For  surely  the  love  that  has  stooped 
to  me  can  never  pass  by  any  human  soul. 

What  is  the  breadth  of  the  love  of  Christ  ?  It  it  broa4 
ae  mankind,  it  is  narrow  as  myself. 


44       THE  PABADOX  OF  LOVB'B  MBASUBB. 

II.— Then,  in  the  next  place,  what  is  the  length  of  the 
love  of  ChriBt  ? 

If  we  are  to  think  of  Him  only  af  a  man,  however 
exalted  and  however  perfect,  yon  and  I  have  nothing  in 
the  world  to  do  yMi  Hii  love.  When  He  was  here  on 
earth  it  may  have  been  sent  down  through  the  ages  in  Bome 
vagne  way,  as  the  shadowy  ghost  of  love  may  rise  in  the 
heart  of  a  great  statesman  or  philanthropist  for  generations 
yet  nnbom,  which  he  dimly  sees  will  be  affected  by  his 
sacrifice  and  service.  Bnt  we  do  not  call  that  love.  Such 
a  poor,  pale,  shadowy  thing  has  no  right  to  the  warm 
throbbing  name  ;  has  no  right  to  demand  from  ns  any 
answering  thrill  of  affection.  Unless  you  think  of 
Jesus  Christ  as  something  more  and  other  than  the  purest 
and  the  loftiest  benevolence  that  ever  dwelt  in  human 
form,  I  know  of  no  intelligible  sense  in  which  the  length 
of  His  love  can  be  stretched  to  touch  you. 

If  we  content  ourselves  with  that  altogether  inadequate 
and  lame  conception  of  Him  and  of  His  nature,  of 
course  there  is  no  present  bond  between  any  man  upon 
earth  and  Him,  and  it  is  absurd  to  talk  about  His  present 
love  as  extending  in  any  way  to  me.  But  we  have  to 
believe,  rising  to  the  full  height  of  the  Christian  concep- 
tion of  the  nature  and  person  of  Christ,  that  when  He  was 
here  on  earth  the  Divine  that  dwelt  in  Him  so  informed 
and  inspired  the  human  as  that  the  love  of  His  man*s 
heart  was  able  to  grasp  the  whole,  and  to  separate  the 
individuals  that  should  make  up  the  race  till  the  end  of 
time ;  so  as  that  you  and  I,  looking  back  over  all  the 
centuries,  and  asking  ourselves  what  is  the  length  of  the 
love  of  Christ,  can  say,  "  It  stretches  over  all  the  years, 
and  it  reached  then  as  it  reaches  now  to  touch  me,  upon 
whom  the  ends  of  the  earth  have  come."  Its  length  is 
conterminous  with  the  duration  of  humanity  hero  or 
yond«r. 


THH  PARADOX  OV  LOVB'B  MBA3URB.  4& 

Thit  ihonght  of  eternal  being,  when  we  refer  it  to  Gk>d, 
towers  ibove  ns  and  repels  iw ;  and  when  we  turn  it  to 
ourselves  and  think  of  our  own  life  as  unending,  there 
come  a  strangeness  and  an  awe  that  is  almost  shrinking, 
over  the  thoughtful  spirit.  But  when  we  transmute  It 
Into  the  thought  of  a  love  whose  length  is  unending,  then 
over  all  the  shoreless,  misty,  melancholy  sea  of  eternity, 
there  gleams  a  light,  and  every  wavelet  flashes  up  into 
glory.  It  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  think,  "  For  ever.  Thou 
art  God.**  It  is  a  solemn  thing  to  think  "  For  ever  I  am 
to  bef  but  It  is  life  to  say :—"  0  Christ  1  Thy  love 
endureth  from  everlasting  to  everlasting ;  and  because  It 
lives.  I  shall  live  also—"  **  Oh  I  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord, 
for  He  is  good,  for  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever." 

There  is  another  measure  of  the  length  of  the  love  of 
Christ  "Master  I  How  often  shall  my  brother  sin 
against  me,  and  I  forgive  him  ?— I  say  not  unto  thee  until 
seven  times,  but  until  seventy  times  seven."— So  said  the 
Christ,  multiplying  perfection  into  itself  twice— two 
sevens  and  a  ten— in  order  to  express  the  idea  of  bound- 
lessness.  And  the  law  that  He  laid  down  for  His  servant 
is  the  law  that  binds  Himselt  What  is  the  length  of  the 
love  of  Christ  ?  Here  is  one  measure  of  it,— howsoever 
long  drawn  out  my  sin  may  be,  this  is  longer ;  and  the 
white  line  of  His  love  runs  out  into  infinity,  far  beyond 
,the  point  where  the  black  line  of  my  sin  stops.  Any- 
thing short  of  eternal  patience  would  have  been  long  ago 
exhausted  by  your  sins  and  mine,  and  our  brethren's. 
But  the  pitying  Christ,  the  eternal  Lover  of  all  wandering 
souls,  looks  down  from  Heaven  upon  every  one  of  us ; 
goes  with  us  In  all  our  wanderings,  bear  with  us  in  all 
our  sina,  in  all  our  transgressions  still  is  gracious.  His 
pleadings  sound  on,  like  some  stop  in  an  organ  eontin- 
uously  persistent  through  all  the  other  notes.  And 
round  His  throne  aro  written  the  Dlvlno  words  whi«li 


4§  THB  PARADOX   OP  LOVfi'8  MBASUBB. 

hftT»  been  spoken  abont  our  hnman  love  modelled  aft^r 
Hia  •*  Charity  suffereth  long  and  is  kind  ;  is  not  easily 
provoked,  is  not  soon  angry,  beareth  all  things.**  The 
length  of  the  love  of  Christ  is  the  length  of  eternity,  and 
OQt-measures  all  human  sin. 

III. — Then  again,  what  is  the  depth  of  that  love  t 
Depth  and  height,  as  I  said  at  the  beginning  of  these 
remarks,  are  but  two  ways  of  expressing  the  same  dimen- 
iion.  For  the  one  we  begin  at  the  top  and  measure  down, 
for  the  other  we  begin  at  the  bottom  and  measure  up. 
The  top  is  the  Throne  ;  and  the  downward  measure,  how 
is  it  to  be  stated  f  In  what  terms  of  distance  are  we  to 
express  it  ?  How  far  is  it  from  the  Throne  of  the  Uni- 
Terse  to  the  manger  at  Bethlehem,  and  the  Cross  at  Calvary, 
Ukd  the  sepulchre  in  the  garden  ?  That  is  the  depth  of 
(he  love  of  Christ.  Howsoever  far  may  be  the  distance 
from  that  loftiness  of  co-equal  Divinity  in  the  bosom  of 
the  Father,  and  radiant  with  glory,  to  the  lowliness  of  the 
form  of  a  servant,  and  the  sorrows,  limitations,  rejections, 
pains  and  death — that  is  the  measure  of  the  depth  of 
Christ's  love.  We  can  estimate  the  depth  of  the  love  of 
Christ  by  saying  **  He  came  from  above,  He  tabernacled 
with  ns,**  as  if  some  planet  were  to  burst  from  its  track 
and  plunge  downwards  in  amongst  the  mist  and  the 
narrowness  of  our  earthly  atmosphere. 

A  well-known  modem  scientist  has  hazarded  the  spee- 
alation  that  the  origin  of  life  on  this  planet,  has  been  the 
falling  upon  it  of  the  fragment  of  a  meteor,  or  an  aerolite 
from  some  other  system,  with  a  speck  of  organic  life  upon 
it,  from  which  all  has  developed.  Whatever  may  be  the 
ease  in  regard  of  the  physical  life,  that  is  absolutely  true 
in  the  case  of  spiritual  life.  It  all  originates  because  this 
Heaven-descended  Christ  has  come  down  the  long  stair- 
case of  Incarnation,  and  has  brought  with  Him  into  the 
•loads   and  oppressions  of  our  terrestrial  atmosphere  a 


THB  PARADOX  OF  LOVB*B  MBASUBI.  47 

germ  of  life  which  He  has  planted  in  the  heart  of  the 
race,  there  to  spread  for  ever.  That  if  the  measore  of  the 
depth  of  the  love  of  Christ. 

And  there  is  another  way  to  measure  it.  My  sins  are 
deep,  my  helpless  miseries  are  deep,  but  they  are  shallow 
as  compared  with  the  love  that  goes  down  beneath  all  sin, 
that  is  deeper  than  all  sorrow,  that  is  deeper  than  all 
necessity,  that  shrinks  from  no  degradation,  that  turns  a- 
way  from  no  squalor,  that  abhors  no  wickedness  so  as  to 
avert  its  face  from  it  The  purest  passion  of  human 
benevolence  cannot  but  sometimes  be  aware  of  disgust 
mingling  with  its  pity  and  its  efforts,  but  Christ's  love 
comes  down  to  the  most  sunken.  However  far  in  the 
abyss  of  degradation  any  human  soul  has  descended, 
beneath  it  are  the  everlasting  arms,  and  beneath  it  is 
Christ's  love.  When  a  coalpit  gets  blocked  up  by  some 
explosion  no  brave  rescuing  party  will  venture  to  descend 
into  the  lowest  depths  of  the  poisonous  darkness  until 
tome  ventilation  has  been  restored.  But  this  loving  Christ 
goes  down,  down,  down  into  the  thickest,  most  pestilential 
atmosphere,  reeking  with  sin  and  corruption,  and  stretches 
out  a  rescuing  hand  to  the  most  abject  and  undermost  of 
ail  the  victims.  How  deep  is  the  love  of  Christ  ?  The 
deep  mines  of  sin  and  of  alienation  are  all  undermined 
and  countermined  by  His  love.  Sin  is  an  abyss,  a  mystery, 
how  deep  only  they  know  who  have  fought  against  it ; 

*0  Lots  t  then  bottomlcM  ahjm, 
Ifj  lini  vn  iwallowed  up  In  iSxt^T 

*  I  will  east  all  their  sins  into  the  depths  of  the  sea.** 
The  depth's  of  Christ's  love  go  down  beneath  all  human 
necessity,  sorrow,  suffering,  and  sin. 

lY.— And,  lastly,  what  is  the  height  •f  tlM  loT«  «l 
Christ? 

We  found  that  the  way  to  measure  the  depth  was  to  !>•- 
fin  at  the  Throne,  and  go  down  to  the  Cross,  and  to  tha 


48       THB  PARADOX  OF  LOVB'S  MBA8UR1. 

f onl  abysses  of  OTil.  The  way  to  measure  the  height  if  to 
begin  at  the  Cross  and  the  foul  abysses  of  evil,  and  to  go 
up  to  the  Throne.  That  is  to  say,  the  topmost  thing  in 
the  Unirerse,  the  shining  apex  and  pinnacle,  glittering 
away  up  there  in  the  radiant  unsetting  light,  is  the  love 
of  God  in  Jesus  Christ.  The  other  conceptions  of  that 
Divine  nature  spring  high  above  us  and  tower  beyond  our 
thoughts,  but  the  summit  of  them  all,  the  very  topmost 
as  it  is  the  very  bottom-most,  outside  of  everything, 
and  therefore  high  above  everything,  is  the  love  of  God 
which  has  been  revealed  to  us  all,  and  brought  close  to 
OS  sinful  men  in  the  manhood  and  paision  of  our  dear 
Christ. 

And  that  love  which  thus  towers  above  as,  and  gleams 
like  the  shining  cross  on  the  top  of  some  lofty  cathedral 
spire,  does  not  flash  up  there  inaccessible,  nor  lie  before 
us  like  some  pathless  precipice,  up  which  nothing  that 
has  not  wings  can  ever  hope  to  rise,  but  the  height  of  the 
love  of  Christ  is  an  hospitable  height,  which  can  be  scaled 
by  us.  Nay,  rather,  that  heaven  of  love  which  is  "  higher 
than  our  thoughts,"  bends  down,  as  by  a  kind  of  optical 
delusion  the  physical  heaven  seems  to  do,  towards  each  of 
us,  only  with  this  blessed  difference,  that  in  the  natural 
world  the  place  where  heaven  touches  earth  is  always  the 
furthest  point  of  distance  from  us  ;  and  in  the  spiritual 
world,  the  place  where  Heaven  stoops  to  me  is  always 
right  over  my  head,  and  the  nearest  possible  point  to  me. 
He  has  come  to  lift  us  to  Himself.  And  this  is  the  height 
of  His  love,  that  it  bears  us  up,  if  we  will,  up  and  up  to 
sit  upon  that  throne  where  He  Himself  is  enthroned. 

So,  brethren,  Christ's  love  is  round  about  us  all,  as  some 
sunny  tropical  sea  may  embosom  in  its  violet  waves  a  mul- 
titude of  luxuriant  and  happy  islets.  So  all  of  us  islanded 
on  our  little  individual  lives,  lie  in  that  great  ocean  of 
love,  all  the  dimensions  of  which  are  immeasurable,  an4 


THB  PARADOX   Of  LOVB'S   MEASURB.  49 

which  stretches  aboTe,  beneath,  around,  shoreless,  tideless, 
bottomless,  endless. 

Bat,  remember,  this  ocean  of  love  yon  can  shnt  out  of 
your  lives.  It  is  possible  to  plunge  a  jar  into  mid- 
Atlantic,  further  than  soundings  have  ever  descended, 
and  to  bring  it  up  on  deck  as  dry  inside  as  if  it  had  been 
lying  on  an  oven.  It  is  possible  for  men  and  women — 
and  I  have  them  listening  to  me  at  this  moment — to  live 
and  move  and  have  their  being  in  that  sea  of  love,  and 
never  to  have  let  one  drop  of  its  richest  gifts  into  their 
hearts  or  their  lives.  Open  your  hearts  for  Him  to  come  in, 
by  humble  faith  In  His  great  sacrifice  for  you.  For,  if 
Christ  dwell  in  your  heart  by  faith,  then  and  only  then 
will  experience  be  your  guide  ;  and  you  will  be  able  to 
comprehend  the  boundless  greatness,  the  endless  duration, 
and  absolute  perfection,  and  to  know  the  1ot«  of  Christ 
which  passeth  knowled^«w 


THE   CLIMAX   OF  ALL  PRAYER. 


SERMON  T, 


TRE  OlilKAZ  OF  ALL  P&ATSB. 

"Tial  j9  might  b«  lU«d  with  aU  th«  talxmrn  «tf  Ood."— Ith.  ■.<!& 

The  Apo«tl6*i  many-linked  prayer,  which  we  haye  been 
eoneidering  in  tnccessiye  sermons,  has  reached  its  height 
It  soars  to  the  Tery  Throne  of  God.  There  can  be  nothing 
above  er  beyond  this  wonderful  petition.  Rather,  it 
might  seem  as  if  it  were  too  much  to  ask,  and  as  if,  in  the 
ecstasy  ef  prayer,  Paul  had  forgotten  the  limits  that  sepa- 
rate the  creature  from  the  Creator,  as  well  as  the  experience 
of  sinful  and  imperfect  men,  and  had  sought  to  **  wind 
himself  too  high  for  mortal  life  beneath  the  sky.**  And 
yet  Paul's  prayers  are  God's  promises  ;  and  we  are  justified 
in  taking  these  rapturous  petitions  as  being  distinct  de- 
elarations  of  God's  desire  and  purpose  for  each  of  us  ;  as 
being  the  end  which  He  had  in  view  in  the  unspeakable 
gift  of  His  Son  ;  and  as  being  the  certain  outcome  of  His 
gracious  working  on  all  believing  hearts. 

It  seems  at  first  a  paradoxical  impossibility  ;  looked  at 
mor«  deeply  and  carefully  it  becomes  a  possibility  for 
each  of  us,  and  therefore  a  duty  ;  a  certainty  for  all  the 
redeemed  in  fullest  measure  hereafter ;  and,  alas  t  a  rebuke 
to  our  low  lives  and  feeble  expectations.    Lei  uf  look, 


S4  THB  OLIMAX  OF  ALL  PRATBB. 

then,  at  the  petition,  with  the  desire  of  sounding,  as  we 
may,  its  depths  and  realising  its  preciousness. 

1.— First  of  all,  think  with  me  of  the  significance  of  thli 
prayer. 

"The  fulness  of  God**  is  another  expression  for  the 
whole  sum  and  aggregate  of  all  the  energies,  powers,  and 
attributes  of  the  Divine  nature,  the  total  Godhead  in  iti 
plenitude  and  abundance. 

"  God  is  love,"  we  say.  What  does  that  mean,  but  that 
God  desires  to  impart  His  whole  self  to  the  creatures 
whom  He  loves  ?  What  is  love  in  its  lofty  and  purest 
forms,  even  as  we  see  them  here  on  earth  ;  what  is  love 
except  the  infinite  longing  to  bestow  one's  self  ?  And 
when  we  proclaim  that  which  is  the  summit  and  climax 
of  the  revelation  of  our  Father  in  the  person  of  His  Son, 
and  say  with  the  last  utterances  of  Scripture  that  "  God 
is  love,"  we  do  in  other  words  proclaim  that  the  very 
nature  and  deepest  desire  and  purpose  of  the  Divine  heart 
St  to  pour  itself  on  the  emptiness  and  need  of  His  lowly 
creatures  in  floods  that  keep  back  nothing.  Lofty,  won- 
derful, incomprehensible  to  the  mere  understanding  as 
this  thought  may  be,  clearly  it  is  the  inmost  meaning  of 
all  that  Scripture  tells  us  about  God  as  being  the  "  portion 
of  His  people,"  and  about  us,  as  being  by  Christ  and  in 
Christ  "  heirs  of  God,"  and  possessors  of  Himself. 

We  have,  then,  as  the  promise  that  gleams  from  these 
great  words,  this  wonderful  prospect,  that  the  Divine 
love,  truth,  holiness,  joy,  in  all  their  rich  plenitude  of 
all-sufficient  abundance,  may  be  showered  upon  us.  The 
whole  Godhead  is  our  possession.  For  the  fulness  of 
God  is  no  f  ar-ofiE  remote  treasure  that  lies  beyond  human 
grasp  and  outside  of  human  experience.  Do  not  we 
believe  that,  to  use  the  words  of  this  Apostle  in  another 
letter,  "it  pleased  the  Father  that  in  Him  should  all  the 
fulneM  dwell"  ?    Do  we  not  believe  that,  to  use  the  wordi 


THE  CLIMAX  OF  ALL  PRATER.  55 

of  the  same  EpiBtle,  **  In  Christ  dwelleth  all  the  fulness 
of  the  Godhead  bodily "  ?  Is  not  that  abundance  of 
the  resonrces  of  the  whole  Deity  insphered  and  incar- 
nated in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord^  that  it  may  be  near  ns,  and 
that  we  may  put  out  our  hand  and  touch  it  ?  This  may 
be  a  paradox  for  the  understanding,  full  of  metaphysical 
puzzles  and  cobwebs,  but  for  the  heart  that  knows  Christ, 
most  true  and  precious.  God  is  gathered  into  Jesus 
Christ,  and  all  the  fulness  of  God,  whatever  that  may  mean, 
is  embodied  in  the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  that  from  Him  U 
may  be  communicated  to  every  soul  that  will. 

For,  to  quote  other  words  of  another  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment teachers,  "  Of  His  fulness  have  all  we  received,  and 
grace  for  grace."  And  to  quote  words  in  another  part  of  the 
same  Epistle,  we  may  **  all  come  to  a  perfect  man,  to  the 
measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ."  High 
above  us,  then,  and  inaccessible  though  that  awful  thought, 
"  the  fulness  of  God,"  may  seem,  as  the  zenith  of  the  un- 
Bcaleable  heavens  seems  to  us  poor  creatures  creeping  here 
npon  the  flat  earth,  it  comes  near,  near,  near,  ever  nearer, 
and  at  last  tabernacles  among  us,  when  we  think  that  in 
Him  all  the  fulness  dwells,  and  it  comeH  nearer  yet  and 
enters  into  our  hearts  when  we  think  that  **  of  His  fulness 
have  we  all  received." 

Then,  still  further,  observe  another  of  the  words  In 
this  petition  : — "  That  ye  may  be  filled."  That  is  to  say, 
Paul's  prayer  and  God's  purpose  and  desire  concerning 
ns  is,  that  our  whole  being  may  be  so  saturated  and 
charged  with  an  indwelling  Divinity  as  that  there  shall 
be  no  room  in  onr  present  stature  and  capacity  for  more, 
and  no  sense  of  want  or  aching  emptiness. 

Ah  !  brethren,  when  we  think  of  how  eagerly  we  have 
drunk  at  the  stinking  puddles  of  earth,  and  how  after 
every  draught  there  has  yet  been  left  a  thirst  that  was 
pain,  it  is  something  for  us  to  hear  Him  say  : — "  The  water 


56  THB  OLIMAZ  OF  ALL   PRATIR. 

that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water 
springing  up  into  everlasting  life.*' — and  "  he  that  drinketh 
of  this  water  shall  never  thirst."  Our  empty  hearts,  with 
their  experiences  of  the  iasufficiencj  and  the  vanity  of  aU 
earthly  satisfaction,  stand  there  like  the  water-pots  at  the 
rustic  marriage,  and  the  Master  says,  "  Fill  them  to  the 
brim."  And  then,  by  His  touch,  the  water  of  our  poor 
savourless,  earthly  enjoyments  is  transmuted  and  ele- 
vated into  the  new  wine  of  His  Kingdom.  We  may  be 
filled,  satisfied  with  the  fulness  of  God. 

There  is  another  point  as  to  the  significance  of  this 
prayer,  on  which  I  must  briefly  touch.  As  our  Revised 
Version  will  tell  you,  the  literal  rendering  of  my  text  is, 
"filled  unto''  (not  exactly  with)  "all  the  fulness  of  God;*' 
which  suggests  the  idea  not  of  a  completed  work  but  of  a 
process,  and  of  a  growing  process,  as  if  more  and  more  of 
that  great  fulness  might  pass  into  a  man.  Suppose  a 
number  of  vessels,  according  to  the  old  .illustration  about 
degrees  of  glory  in  Heaven  ;  they  are  each  full,  but  the 
quantity  that  one  contains  is  much  less  than  that  which 
the  other  may  hold.  Add  to  the  illustration  that  the 
vessels  can  grow,  and  that  filling  makes  them  grow  ;  as  a 
shrunken  bladder  when  you  pass  gas  into  it  will  expand 
and  round  itself  out,  and  all  the  creases  will  be  smoothed 
away.  Such  is  the  Apostle's  idea  here  that  a  process  of 
filling  goes  on  which  may  satisfy  the  then  desires,  because 
it  fills  us  up  to  to  the  then  capacities  of  our  spirits  ;  but  ir 
the  very  process  of  so  filling  and  satisfying,  makes  those 
spirits  capable  of  containing  larger  measures  of  His  ful- 
ness, which  therefore  flow  into  it.  Such,  as  I  take  it,  in 
rude  and  faint  outline,  ig  the  significance  of  this  great 
prayer. 

II. — Now  turn  in  the  next  place,  to  consider  briefly  tht 
possibility  of  the  accomplishments  of  this  petition* 

A«  I  said,  it  tounds  as  if  it  were  too  much  to  desirt. 


TME  OUMAX  or  ALL  TJUJMBL  57 

Certainly  no  wish  can  go  beyond  this  wisli.  The  question 
is,  can  a  sane  and  humble  wish  go  as  far  as  this;  and  can 
a  man  pray  snch  a  prayer  with  any  real  belief  that  he  will 
get  it  answered  here  and  now  ?    I  say  yes  t 

There  are  two  difficulties  that  at  once  start  np. 

People  will  say,  does  snch  a  prayer  as  this  npon  man's 
lips  not  forget  the  limits  that  bound  the  creature^s  capa« 
city  ?    Can  the  finite  contain  the  Infinite  ? 

Well,  that  is  a  verbal  puzzle,  and  I  answer,  yes  I  The 
finite  can  contain  the  Infinite,  if  you  are  talking  about 
two  hearts  that  love,  one  of  them  God^s  and  one  of  them 
mine.  We  have  got  to  keep  very  clear  and  distinct  be- 
fore our  minds  the  broad,  firm  line  of  demarcation 
between  the  creature  and  the  Creator,  or  else  we  get  into 
a  pantheistic  region  where  both  creature  and  Creator 
expire.  But  there  is  a  Christian  as  well  as  an  atheistic 
pantheism,  and  as  long  as  we  retain  clearly  in  our  mindB 
Uie  consciousness  of  the  personal  distinction  between 
Qod  and  His  child,  so  aa  that  the  child  can  turn  round 
and  say,  "  I  love  Thee,"  and  God  can  look  down  and  say, 
**  I  bless  thee  ;'*  then  all  identification  and  mutual  in* 
dwelling  and  impartation  from  Him  of  Himself  are 
possible,  and  are  held  forth  aa  the  aim  and  end  of 
Christian  life. 

Of  course  in  a  mere  abstract  and  philosophical  sense  the 
Infinite  cannot  be  contained  by  the  finite;  and  attributes 
which  express  infinity,  like  omnipresence  and  omniscience 
and  omnipotence  and  so  on,  indicate  things  in  God  that 
we  can  know  but  little  about,  and  that  cannot  be  com- 
municated. But  those  are  not  the  Divinest  things  in  God. 
"  God  is  love.  "  Do  you  believe  that  that  saying  unveils 
the  deepest  things  in  Him  ?  God  is  light,  '*  and  in  Him  is 
no  darkness  at  all.**  Do  you  believe  that  HiB  light  &nd 
His  love  are  nearer  the  centre  than  these  attributes  of  pc»  v.  .r 
and  infinitude  ?    If  we  believe  that,  then  we  oan  eome 


M  THE  CLIMAX  OF  ALL  PR4TB& 

back  to  my  text,  and  say,  "  The  love,  which  it  ThM,  ««a 

come  into  me ;  the  light,  which  is  Thee,  can  pour  it«elf 
into  my  darkness  ;  the  holiness,  which  is  Thee,  can  enter 
into  my  impurity.  The  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  con- 
tain Thee.  Thou  dwellest  in  the  humble  and  In  th«  con- 
trite heart." 

So,  dear  brethren,  the  old  legends  about  mighty  fonna 
that  contracted  their  stature  and  bowed  their  Divine 
heads  to  enter  into  some  poor  man's  hut,  and  Bit  there, 
are  simple  Christian  realities.  And  instead  of  puzzling 
ourselves  with  metaphysical  difficulties  which  aremeresha- 
dows,  and  the  work  of  the  understanding  or  the  spawn  of 
words,  let  us  listen  to  the  Christ  when  He  says,  "  We  will 
come  into  him  and  make  our  abode  with  him,**  and  be- 
lieve that  it  was  no  impossibility  which  fired  th«  Apostle'g 
hope  when  he  prayed,  and  in  praying  prophesied,  that  we 
might  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God. 

Then  there  is  another  difficulty  that  ri»«i  before  our 
minds  ;  and  Christian  men  say,  "  How  is  It  possible,  in 
this  region  of  imperfection,  compassed  with  infirmity  and 
sin  as  we  are,  that  such  hopes  should  be  realised  for  us 
here."  Well,  I  would  rather  answer  that  question  by  retort- 
ing and  saying :  "  How  is  it  possible  that  such  a  prayer 
should  have  come  from  inspired  lips  unless  the  thing  that 
Paul  was  asking  might  be  ?'*  Did  he  waste  his  breath  when 
he  thus  prayed  ?  Are  we  not  as  Christian  men  bound,  in- 
stead of  measuring  our  expectations  by  our  attainments, 
to  try  to  stretch  our  attainments  to  what  are  our  legiti- 
mate expectations,  and  to  hear  in  these  words  the  answer 
to  the  faithless  and  unbelieving  doubt  whether  such  a 
thing  is  possible,  and  the  assurance  that  it  is  possible. 

An  impossibility  can  never  be  a  duty,  and  yet  we  are 
commanded  :  "  Be  ye  perfect,  as  your  Father  in  Heaven  is 
perfect."  An  impossibility  can  never  be  a  duty,  and  yet 
we  are  commanded  to  let  Christ  abide  in  our  hearts. 


THB  CLIMAX  OF  ALL  PRAYBB.  59 

Oh  I  if  we  believed  less  in  the  power  of  oar  Bin  it 
would  have  less  power  upon  U8.  If  we  believed  more  in 
the  power  of  an  indwelling  Christ  He  would  have  more 
power  within  ub.  If  we  said  to  ourselves, "  It  is  possible," 
we  should  make  it  possible.  The  impossibility  arises 
only  from  our  own  weakness,  from  our  own  sinful  weak- 
ness ;  and  though  it  may  be  true,  and  is  true,  that  none  of 
OB  will  live  without  sin  as  long  as  we  abide  here,  it  is  also 
true  that  each  moment  of  interruption  of  our  communion 
with  Christ,  and  therefore  each  moment  of  interruption  of 
that  being  "  filled  with  the  fulness  of  God,"  might  have 
been  avoided.  We  know  about  every  such  time  that  we 
could  have  helped  it  if  we  had  liked.  And  it  is  no  use 
bringing  any  general  principles  about  sin  cleaving  to  men 
in  order  to  break  the  force  of  that  conviction.  But  if 
that  conviction  be  a  real  one,  and  if  whenever  a  Christian 
man  loses  the  consciousness  of  God  in  his  heart,  making 
him  blessed,  he  is  obliged  to  say  :  "  It  was  my  own  fault 
and  Thou  wouldst  have  stayed  if  I  had  chosen,"  then 
there  follows  from  that,  that  it  is  possible,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  imperfection  and  sin  of  earth,  that  we  may  be 
••  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God." 

So,  dear  brethren,  take  you  this  prayer  as  the  standard  of 
your  expectationa  :  and  oh  !  take  it  as  we  must  all  take  it, 
as  the  snarpeBt  ot  rebukes  to  our  actual  attainments  in  holi- 
ness and  in  likeness  to  our  Master.  Set  by  the  side  of  these 
wondrous  and  solemn  words. — **  filled  with  the  fulness  of 
God,"  the  facts  of  the  lives  of  the  average  professing 
Christians  of  this  generation,  and  of  this  congregation ; 
their  emptiness,  their  ignorance  of  the  Divine  indwelling, 
their  want  of  anything  in  their  experience  that  corres- 
ponds in  the  least  degree  to  such  words  as  these.  Judge 
whether  a  man  is  not  more  likely  to  be  bowed  down  in 
wholesome  sense  of  his  own  sinfulness  and  unworthiness, 
if  he  has  before  him  such  an  ideal  as  this  of  my  text, 


60  THB  CLIMAX  OF  ALL  PRATKB. 

than  if  It,  too,  has  faded  out  of  hia  life,  I  belieye,  for 
my  part,  that  one  great  cause  of  the  worldliness  and  the 
Binfulness  and  mechanical  formalism  that  are  eating  the 
life  out  of  the  Christianity  of  this  generation,  is  the  fact  of 
the  Church  having  largely  lost  any  real  belief  in  the 
possibility  that  Christian  men  may  possess  the  fulnewi  of 
God  as  their  present  experience.  And  bo,  when  they  do 
not  find  it  in  themselves  they  lay  :  •*  Oh  I  It  if  all  right ; 
it  is  the  ncessary  result  of  our  imperfect  fleshly  eon- 
dition."  No  I  It  is  all  wrong ;  and  His  purpose  ii  that 
we  should  possess  Him  in  the  fulness  of  His  gladdening 
and  hallowing  power,  at  every  moment  in  our  happy 
lives. 

III. — One  word  to  close  with,  as  to  the  meani  by  which 
this  prayer  may  be  fulfilled. 

Remember,  it  comes  as  the  last  link  in  a  chain.  I  shall 
have  wasted  my  breath  for  a  month,  as  far  as  you  are  con- 
cerned, if  you  do  not  feel  that  the  preceding  links  are 
needful  before  this  can  be  attained. 

But  I  only  touch  upon  the  nearer  of  them  and  remind 
you  that  it  must  be  Christ  dwelling  in  our  hearts,  that  fills 
them  with  the  fulness  of  God.  Where  He  comes  God 
comes.  And  where  does  He  come  ?  He  comes  where 
faith  opens  the  door  for  Him.  If  you  will  trust  Jesus 
Christ,  if  you  will  distrust  your  selves,  if  you  will  turn 
your  thoughts  and  your  hearts  to  Him,  if  you  will  let  Him 
come  into  your  souls,  and  not  shut  him  out  because  your 
souls  are  so  full  that  there  is  no  room  for  Him  there,  then 
when  He  comes  He  will  not  come  empty-handed,  but  will 
bring  the  full  Godhead  with  Him. 

There  must  be  the  emptying  of  self,  if  there  is  to  be  the 
filling  with  God.  And  the  emptying  of  self  is  realised  in 
that  faith  which  forsakes  self-confidence,  self -righteousnessi 
self-dependence,  self-control,  self -pleasing,  and  yields  i^ 
■elf  wholly  to  the  dear  Lord. 


THB  CLIMAX  OF   ALL  PRATBB.  61 

There  ii  another  condition  that  is  required,  and  that  is 
the  previous  link  in  this  braided  chain.  The  conscious 
experience  of  the  love  which  is  in  Christ  will  bring  to 
us  "  the  fulness  of  God."  Love  is  power  ;  love  is  God ; 
and  when  we  live  in  the  sense  and  experience  of  God*s 
love  to  us  then  we  have  the  power  and  we  have  the  God. 
It  is  as  in  some  of  these  petrifying  streams,  the  water  is 
charged  with  particles  which  it  deposits  upon  everything 
that  is  laid  in  its  course.  So,  if  we  plunge  our  hearts  into 
that  fountain  of  the  love  of  Christ,  at  it  flows  it  will 
clothe  US  with  all  the  Divine  energies  which  are  held  in 
solution  in  the  Divinest  thing  in  God,  His  own  love. 
Plunged  into  the  love  we  are  filled  with  the  fulness. 

Then  keep  near  your  Master.  It  all  comes  to  that. 
Meditate  upon  Him  ;  do  not  let  days  pass,  as  they  do  pass, 
without  a  thought  being  turned  to  Him.  Do  not  go  about 
your  daily  work  without  a  remembrance  of  Him.  Keep 
yourselves  in  Christ.  Seek  to  experience  His  love,  that 
love  which  passeth  knowledge,  and  is  only  known  by 
them  who  possess  it.  And  then,  as  the  old  painters  with 
deep  truth  used  to  paint  the  Apostle  of  Love  with  a  face 
like  his  Master,  living  near  Christ  and  looking  upon  Him 
you  will  receive  of  His  fulness,  and  ^  we  all,  with  open 
face,  beholding  the  glory,  shall  be  changed  into  the 
glory." 


CHEIST^S  TOUCH, 


fiERMON  YL 


OHBIST*S   TOnOH. 
■  Jmbi  paft  forth  Hlf  hand  and  toaehed  hlm.'-^llark  L  A 

••  Behold  the  servant  of  the  Lord  "  might  be  the  motto  of 
thifl  Gospel,  and  "  Re  went  abont  doing  good,  and  healing," 
the  summing  up  of  its  facts.  We  have  in  it  comparatively 
few  of  our  Lord^s  di8Com*ses,  none  of  His  longer,  and  not 
very  many  of  His  briefer  ones.  It  contains  but  four 
parables.  This  Evangelist  gives  no  miraculous  birth  af 
in  Matthew,  no  angels  adoring  there  as  in  Luke,  no  gazing 
into  the  secrets  of  Eternity,  where  the  Word,  Who  after- 
wards became  flesh,  dwelt  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  as 
in  John.  He  begins  with  a  brief  reference  to  the  Fore- 
runner, and  then  plunges  into  the  story  of  ChrisVs  life  of 
service  to  man,  and  service  for  God. 

In  carrying  out  his  conception  the  Evangelist  omits 
many  things  found  in  the  other  Gospels,  which  involve 
the  idea  of  dignity  and  dominion,  while  he  adds  to  the 
incidents  which  he  has  in  common  with  them  not  a  few 
fine  and  subtle  touches  to  heighten  the  impression  of  our 
Lord's  toil  and  eagerness  in  His  patient  loving  service. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  an  instance  of  this  that  we  find  mor« 
prominence  given  to  our  Lord's  touch  as  connected  with 


66  OHRIST^S  TOUCH. 

His  miracles  than  in  the  other  Gospels,  or  perhaps  it  may 
merely  be  an  instance  of  the  viyid  portraiture,  the  result 
of  a  keen  eye  for  externals,  which  is  so  marked  a  charac- 
teristic of  this  gospel.  Whatever  the  reason,  the  fact  is 
plain,  that  Mark  delights  to  dwell  on  Christ's  tonch.  The 
instances  are  these — first.  He  puts  out  His  hand,  and 
«* lifts  up"  Peter's  wife's  mother,  and  immediately  the 
fever  left  her  (i.  31),  then,  unrepelled  by  the  foul  disease, 
He  lays  His  pure  hand  upon  the  leper,  and  the  living  mass 
of  corruption  is  healed  (i.  41)  ;  again.  He  lays  His  hand 
on  the  clammy  marble  of  the  dead  child's  forehead,  and 
she  lives  (i.  41).  Further,  we  have  incidental  statement 
that  He  was  so  hindered  in  His  mighty  works  by  unbelief 
that  He  could  only  lay  His  hands  on  a  few  sick  folk  and 
heal  them  (vi.  5).  We  find  next  two  remarkable  incidents, 
peculiar  to  Mark,  both  like  each  other  and  unlike  our 
Lord's  other  miracles.  One  is  the  gradual  healing  of  that 
deaf  and  dumb  man  whom  Christ  took  apart  from  the 
crowd,  laid  His  hands  on  him,  thrust  His  fingers  into 
his  ears  as  if  He  would  clear  some  impediment,  touched 
his  tongue  with  saliva,  said  to  him,  "  Be  opened  ";  and  the 
man  can  hear  (vii.  34).  And  the  other  is,  the  gradual  heal- 
ing of  a  blind  man  whom  our  Lord  again  leads  apart  from 
the  crowd,  takes  by  the  hand,  lays  His  own  kind  hands 
upon  the  poor  sightless  eyeballs,  and  with  singular  slow- 
ness of  progress  effects  a  cure,  not  by  a  leap  and  a  bound 
as  He  generally  does,  but  by  steps  and  stages  ;  tries  it  once 
and  finds  partial  success,  has  to  apply  the  curative  process 
again  and  then  the  man  can  see  (viii.  23).  In  addition 
to  these  instances  there  are  two  other  incidents  which 
may  also  be  adduced.  It  is  Mark  alone  who  records  for 
us  the  fact  that  He  took  little  children  in  His  arms,  and 
blessed  them.  And  it  is  Mark  alone  who  records  for  us 
the  fact  that  when  He  came  down  from  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration  He  laid  His  hand  upon  the  demoniac  boy, 


Christ's  touch.  07 

writhing  in  the  grip  of  his  tormentor,  and  lifted  liiin  up. 

There  is  mnch  taught  ns,  if  we  will  patiently  oongider 
it,  by  that  tonch  of  Chri8t*8,  and  I  wish  to  try  to  bring 
out  its  meaning  and  power. 

I. — Whatever  diviner  and  eacreder  aspect  there  may  be 
in  these  incidents,  the  first  thing  ;  and  in  some  senses  the 
most  precious  thing  in  them  is  that  they  are  the  natural 
expression  of  a  truly  hnman  tenderness  and  compassion. 

Now  we  are  so  accustomed,  and  as  I  believe  quite 
rightly,  to  look  at  all  Christ's  life  down  to  its  minutest 
events  as  intended  to  be  a  revelation  of  God,  that  we  are 
sometimes  apt  to  think  about  it  as  if  His  motive  and  pur- 
pose in  everything  was  didactic.  So  an  unreality  creeps 
over  our  conceptions  of  Christ's  life,  and  we  need  to  be 
reminded  that  He  was  not  always  acting  and  speaking  in 
order  to  convey  instruction,  but  that  words  and  deeds  were 
drawn  from  Him  by  the  play  of  simple  human  feeling8« 
He  pitied  not  only  in  order  to  teach  us  the  heart  of  God, 
but  because  His  own  man's  heart  was  touched  with  a  feel- 
ing of  men's  infirmities.  We  are  too  apt  to  think  of  Him 
as  posing  before  men  with  the  intent  of  giving  the  great 
revelation  of  the  Love  of  God.  It  is  the  love  of  Christ 
Himself,  spontaneous,  instinctive,  without  the  thought  of 
anything  but  the  suffering  it  sees,  which  gushes  out  and 
leads  Him  to  put  forth  His  hand  to  the  outcast  beggars, 
the  blind,  the  deaf,  the  lepers.  That  is  the  first  great 
lesson  we  have  to  learn  from  this  and  other  stories, — the 
swift  human  sympathy  and  heart  of  grace  and  tenderness 
which  Jesus  Christ  had  for  all  human  suffering ;  and 
has  to-day  as  truly  as  ever. 

There  is  more  than  this  instinctive  sympathy  taught  by 
Christ's  touch.  But  it  is  distinctly  taught.  How  beauti- 
fully that  comes  out  in  the  story  of  the  leper  I  That 
wretched  man  had  long  dwelt  in  his  isolation.  The  touch 
•I  a  friend's  hand  or  the  kiss  of  loving  lips  had  been 

F  2 


68  CHRIST'S  TOUCH. 

long  denied  him.  ChrlBt  looks  on  him,  and  before  1m 
reflects  the  spontaneous  impulse  of  pity  breaks  through 
the  barriers  of  legal  prohibitions,  and  of  natural  repu^ 
nance,  and  leads  Him  to  lay  His  holy  and  healing  hand 
on  His  foulness. 

True  pity  always  instinctively  leads  us  to  seek  to  oome 
near  those  who  are  its  objects.  A  man  tells  his  friend 
some  sad  story  of  his  sufferings,  and  while  he  speaks,  un- 
consciously his  listener  lays  his  hand  on  his  arm  and,  by 
a  silent  pressure,  tells  his  sympathy.  So  Christ  did  with 
these  men — not  only  in  order  that  He  might  reveal  God 
to  us,  but  because  He  was  a  man,  and  therefore  felt  ere  He 
thought.  Out  flashed  from  his  heart  the  swift  sympathy, 
followed  by  the  tender  pressure  of  the  loving  hand — a 
hand  that  tried  through  flesh  to  reach  spirit  and  come 
near  the  sufferer  that  it  might  succour  and  remove  the 
sorrow. 

Christ's  pity  is  shown  by  His  touch  to  have  this  true 
characteristic  of  true  pity,  that  it  overcomM  disgust.  All 
real  sympathy  does  that.  Christ  is  not  turned  away  by 
the  shining  whiteness  of  the  leprosy,  nor  by  the  eating 
pestilence  beneath  it;  He  is  not  turned  away  by  the 
clammy  marble  hand  of  the  poor  dead  maiden,  nor 
by  the  fevered  skin  of  the  old  woman  gasping  on 
her  pallet.  He  lays  hold  on  each,  the  flushed  patient, 
the  loathsome  leper,  the  sacred  dead,  with  the  all- 
equalising  touch  of  a  universal  love  and  pity,  which 
disregards  all  that  is  repellent  and  overflows  every  barrier 
and  pours  itself  over  every  sufferer.  We  have  the  same 
pity  of  the  same  Christ  to  trust  to  and  to  lay  hold  of  to- 
day. He  is  high  above  us  and  yet  bending  over  usf 
stretching  His  hand  from  the  throne  as  truly  as  He  put 
it  out  when  here  on  earth ;  and  ready  to  take  us  all  to  Hii 
heart,  in  spite  of  our  weakness  and  wickedness,  our  fail* 
Sngi  md  our  shortcomings,  the  fever  of  our  flesh  and 


OH&IST'S  TOUGH.  69 

hearta*  defirea,  the  leprosy  of  oar  many  cormptions,  and 
the  death  of  our  sins, — and  to  hold  ns  ever  in  the  strong 
gentle  clasp  of  His  Divine,  Omnipotent,  and  tender  hand. 
This  Christ  lays  hold  on  us  because  He  loves  us,  and  will 
not  be  turned  from  His  compassion  by  the  most  loathsome 
foulness  of  ours. 

II. — And  now  take  another  point  of  view  from  which 
we  may  regard  this  touch  of  Christ :  namely  as  the 
medium  of  His  miraculous  power. 

There  is  nothing  to  me  more  remarkable  about  the 
miracles  of  our  Lord  than  the  royal  variety  of  His 
methods  of  healing.  Sometimes  He  works, at  a  distance, 
sometimes  He  requires,  as  it  would  appear  for  good 
reasons,  the  proximity  of  the  person  to  be  blessed.  Some- 
times He  works  by  a  simple  word :  "  Lazarus  come 
forth  !"  "  Peace  be  still  I"  "  Come  out  of  him  1"  some- 
times  by  a  word  and  a  touch,  as  in  the  instances  before  us ; 
sometimes  by  a  touch  without  a  word ;  sometimes  by  a  word 
and  a  touch  and  a  vehicle,  as  in  the  saliva  that  was  put  on  the 
tongue,  and  in  the  ears  of  the  deaf,  and  on  the  eyes  of  the 
blind  ;  sometimes  by  a  vehicle  without  a  word,  without 
a  touch,  without  His  presence,  as  when  He  said  "  Go  wash 
in  the  pool  of  Siloam  !  and  he  washed  and  was  clean." 
So  the  Divine  worker  varies  infinitely  and  at  pleasure  yet 
not  arbitrarily  but  for  profound,  even  if  not  alway  dis- 
coverable, reasons,  the  methods  of  His  miracle-working 
power,  in  order  that  we  may  learn  by  these  varieties  of  ways 
that  He  is  tied  to  no  way  ;  and  that  His  hand,  strong  and  al- 
mighty, uses  methods  and  tosses  aside  methods  according 
to  His  pleasure,  the  methods  being  vitalised  when  they 
are  used  by  His  will,  and  being  nothing  at  all  in  them- 
selves. 

The  very  variety  of  His  methods,  then,  teaches  us  that 
the  true  cause  in  every  case  is  His  own  bare  will.  A 
■imple  word  is  the  highest  and  most  adequate  expression 


70  CHRIST  8  TOUCH. 

of  that  will.  His  word  is  all  powerful :  and  that  is  tht 
very  signature  of  divinity.  Of  Whom  has  it  been  tmt 
from  of  old  that  "  He  spake  and  it  was  done,  He  com- 
manded and  it  stood  fast  ?'*  Do  yon  believe  in  a  Christ 
Whose  bare  will,  thrown  among  material  things,  makes 
them  all  plastic,  as  clay  in  the  potter's  hands,  whose 
mouth  rebukes  the  demons  and  they  flee,  rebukes  death 
and  it  looses  its  grasp,  rebukes  the  tempest  and  there  is  a 
calm,  rebukes  disease  and  there  comes  health  ? 

But  this  use  of  Christ's  touch  as  apparent  means  for  con- 
veying His  miraculous  power  also  serves  as  an  illustration 
of  a  principle  which  is  exemplified  in  all  His  revelation, 
namely,  the  employment  in  condescension  to  men's  weak- 
ness, of  outward  means  as  the  apparent  vehicles  of  Hii 
spiritual  power.  Just  as  by  the  material  vehicle  some- 
times employed  for  cure.  He  gave  these  poor  sensebound 
natures  a  ladder  by  which  their  faith  in  His  healing 
power  might  climb,  so  in  the  manner  of  His  revelation  and 
communication  of  His  spiritual  gifts,  there  is  provision 
for  the  wants  of  ns  men,  who  ever  need  some  body  for 
spirit  to  make  itself  manifest  by,  some  form  for  the  ethereal 
reality,  some  *' tabernacle"  for  the  "  sun."  "  Sacraments,'* 
outward  ceremonies,  forms  of  worship  are  vehicles  which 
the  Divine  Spirit  uses  in  order  to  bring  His  gifts  to  the 
hearts  and  the  minds  of  men.  They  are  like  the  toncii 
of  the  Christ  which  heals,  not  by  any  virtue  in  itself 
apart  from  His  will  which  chooses  to  make  it  the  ap- 
parent medium  of  healing.  All  these  externals  are 
nothing,  as  the  pipes  of  an  organ  are  nothing,  until  His 
Breath  is  breathed  through  them,  and  then  the  flood  of 
sweet  sound  pours  ont. 

Do  not  despise  the  material  vehicles  and  the  outward 
helps  which  Christ  uses  for  the  communication  of  His 
healing  and  His  life,  but  remember  that  the  help 
that  is  done  upon  earth,  He  does  it  all  Himself.    Even 


0HBIBT*8  TOUOH.  71 

ChriBt'i  tonch  is  nothing,  if  it  were  not  for  His  own  will 
which  flows  through  it 

III. — Consider  Christ's  tonch  as  a  shadow  and  symbol 
of  the  very  heart  of  His  work. 

Go  back  to  the  past  history  of  this  man.  Ever  since  his 
disease  declared  itself  no  human  being  had  touched  him. 
If  he  had  a  wife  he  had  been  separated  from  her ;  if  he 
had  children  their  lips  had  never  kissed  his,  nor  their 
little  hands  found  their  way  into  his  hard  palm.  Alone 
he  had  been  walking  with  the  plague-cloth  over  his  face, 
and  the  cry  "  unclean !"  on  his  lips,  lest  any  man  should 
come  near  him.  Skulking  in  his  isolation  how  he  must 
have  hungered  for  the  touch  of  a  hand  !  Every  Jew  was 
forbidden  to  approach  him  but  the  priest,  who,  if  he 
were  cured  might  pass  his  hand  over  the  place  and 
pronounce  him  clean.  And  here  comes  a  man  Who  breaks 
down  all  the  restrictions,  stretches  a  frank  hand  ont 
across  the  walls  of  separation  and  touches  him.  What  a 
reviving  assurance  of  love  not  yet  dead,  must  have  come 
to  the  man  as  Christ  grasped  his  hand,  even  if  he  saw  in 
him  only  a  stranger  who  was  not  afraid  of  him  and  did 
not  turn  from  him  I 

But  beside  this  thrill  of  human  sympathy,  which  came 
hope-bringing  to  the  leper,  Christ's  touch  had  much  sig- 
nificance, if  we  remember  that,  according  to  the  Mosaic 
legislation,  the  priest  and  the  priest  alone  was  to  lay  his 
hands  on  the  tainted  skin  and  pronounce  the  leper  whole. 
So  Christ's  touch  was  a  priest's  touch.  He  lays  His  hand 
on  corruption  and  is  not  tainted.  The  corruption  with 
which  He  comes  in  contact  becomes  purity.  Are  not 
these  really  the  profoundest  truths  as  to  His  whole  work 
in  the  world  ?  What  is  it  all  but  laying  hold  of  the  leper 
and  the  outcast  and  the  dead — His  sympathy  leading  to 
Hi«  identification  of  Himself  with  us  in  our  weakneia 
and  misery  ? 


72  Christ's  touch. 

That  Bympathetic  life-bringiiig  touch  ii  pat  forth  once 
for  all  in  His  Incarnation  and  Death.  "  He  taketh  hold 
of  the  seed  of  Abraham/*  says  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  looking  at  our  Lord's  work  under  this  same 
metaphor,  and  explaining  that  His  laying  hold  of  men 
was  His  being  **made  in  all  points  like  unto  his 
brethren."  Just  as  he  took  hold  of  the  fevered  woman 
and  lifted  her  from  her  bed  ;  or,  as  He  thrust  His  fingers 
into  the  deaf  jears  of  that  poor  man  stopped  by  some  im- 
pediment, so,  in  analogous  fashion,  He  becomes  one  of 
those  whom  He  would  save  and  help.  In  His  assumption 
of  humanity  and  in  His  bowing  of  His  head  to  death,  we 
behold  Him  laying  hold  of  our  weakness  and  entering 
Into  the  fellowship  of  our  pains  and  of  the  fruit  of  sin. 

Just  as  He  touches  the  leper  and  is  unpolluted,  or  the 
fever  patient  and  receives  no  contagion,  or  the  dead  and 
draws  no  chill  of  mortality  into  His  warm  hand,  so  He 
becomes  like  His  brethren  in  all  things,  yet  without  sin. 
Being  found  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  He  knows  no 
sin,  but  wears  His  manhood  unpolluted  and  dwells  among 
men  blameless  and  harmless,  the  Son  of  God,  without 
rebuke.  Like  a  sunbeam  paising  through  foul  water 
untarnished  and  unstained ;  or  like  some  sweet  spring 
rising  in  the  midst  of  the  salt  sea,  which  yet  retains  its 
freshness  and  pours  it  over  the  surrounding  bitterness,  eo 
Christ  takes  upon  Hintself  our  nature  and  lays  hold  of 
our  stained  hands  with  the  hand  that  continues  pure 
while  it  grasps  us,  and  will  make  us  purer  if  we  grasp  it. 

Brethren !  Let  your  touch  answer  to  His  ;  and  as  He 
lays  hold  of  us,  in  His  incarnation  and  His  death,  let  the 
hand  of  our  faith  clasp  His  outstretched  hand,  and  though 
our  hold  be  as  faltering  and  feeble  as  that  of  the  tremb- 
ling, wasted  fingers  which  one  timid  woman  once  laid  on 
His  garment's  hem,  the  blessing  which  we  need  will  flow 
into  our  veins  from  the  contact.    There  will  be  cleansing 


0HBI8T  B  TOUGH.  73 

for  our  leprosy,  sight  for  onr  blindness,  life  driving  ont 
death  from  its  throne  in  our  hearts,  and  we  shall  be  able 
to  recount  onr  joyfnl  experience  in  the  old  Psalmist^s 
triumphant  strains — *'He  sent  me  from  above.  He  laid 
hold  upon  me,  he  drew  me  out  of  many  waters." 

IV. — Finally  we  may  look  upon  these  incidents  as  being 
in  a  very  important  sense  a  pattern  for  us. 

No  good  is  to  be  done  by  any  man  to  his  fellows  except 
at  the  cost  of  true  sympathy  which  leads  to  identification 
and  contact.  The  literal  touch  of  your  hand  would  do 
more  good  to  some  poor  outcasts  than  much  solemn  ad- 
vice, or  even  much  material  help  flung  to  them  as  from  a 
height  above  them.  A  shake  of  the  hand  might  be  more 
of  a  means  of  grace  than  a  sermon,  and  more  comforting 
than  ever  so  many  free  breakfasts  and  blankets  given 
superciliously. 

And,  symbolically,  we  may  say  that  we  must  be  willing 
to  take  those  by  the  hand  whom  we  wish  to  help ;  that  is 
to  say,  we  must  come  down  to  their  level,  try  to  see  with 
their  eyes,  and  to  think  their  thoughts,  and  let  them  feel 
that  we  do  not  think  our  purity  too  fine  to  come  beside 
their  filth,  nor  shrink  from  them  with  repugnance, 
however  we  may  show  disapproval  and  pity  for  their  sin. 
Much  work  done  by  Christian  people  has  no  effect,  nor 
ever  will  have,  because  it  has  peeping  through  it  a  poorly 
concealed  "  I  am  holier  than  thou.**  An  instinctive  move- 
ment of  repugnance  has  ruined  many  a  well-meant  effort. 

Christ  has  come  down  to  us,  and  has  taken  all  our 
nature  upon  Himself.  If  there  is  an  outcast  and  aban- 
doned soul  on  earth  which  may  not  feel  that  Jesus  has 
laid  a  loving  and  healing  touch  on  him,  Jesus  is  not  the 
Saviour  for  the  world.  He  shrinks  from  none,  He  unites 
Himself  with  all,  therefore  He  is  able  to  save  to  the  utter- 
most all  who  come  unto  God  by  Him. 

His  conduct  is  the  pattern  and  the  law  for  ni.    A  Ohureh 


74  OHBIST*S  TOUOH. 

is  a  poor  affair  if  It  be  not  a  body  of  people  whose  ex- 
perience of  Christ's  pity  and  gratitude  for  the  life  which 
has  become  theirs  through  His  wondrous  making  Himself 
one  with  them,  compel  them  to  do  the  like  in  their  degree 
for  the  sinful  and  the  outcast.  Thank  God  I  there  are 
many  in  every  communion  who  know  that  constraint  of 
the  love  of  Christ  I  But  the  world  will  not  be  healed  of 
its  sickness  till  the  great  body  of  Christian  people  awakes 
to  feel  that  the  task  and  honour  of  each  of  them  is  to  go 
forth  bearing  Christ's  pity  certified  by  their  own. 

The  sins  of  professing  Christian  countries  are  largely  to 
be  laid  at  the  door  of  the  Church.  We  are  idle  when  we 
ought  to  be  at  work.  We  pass  by  on  the  other  side  when 
bleeding  brethren  lie  with  wounds  gaping  to  be  bound  up 
by  us.  And  even  when  we  are  moved  to  service  by 
Christ's  love,  and  try  to  do  something  for  them  and  for 
our  fellows,  our  work  is  often  tainted  by  a  sense  of  our 
own  superiority,  and  we  patronise  when  we  ihould 
sympathise,  and  lecture  when  we  should  beseech. 

We  must  be  content  to  take  lepers  by  the  hand,  if  we 
would  help  them  to  purity,  and  to  let  every  outcast  feel 
the  warmth  of  our  pitying,  loving  grasp,  if  we  would 
draw  them  into  the  forsaken  Father's  House.  Lay  your 
hands  on  the  sinful  as  Christ  did,  and  they  shall  recover. 
All  your  holiness  and  hope  come  from  Christ's  laying 
hold  of  you.  Keep  hold  of  Him,  and  make  His  great  pity 
and  loving  identification  of  Himself  with  the  world  of 
sinners  and  sufferers,  your  pattern  as  well  as  your  hope, 
and  your  touch,  too,  will  have  virtue.  Keeping  hold  of 
Him  Who  has  taken  hold  of  us,  you,  too,  may  be  able  to 
say  "  Ephphatha,  be  opened,"  or  to  lay  yonr  hand  on  the 
leper  and  he  shall  be  cleansed. 


THE  COMMANDER  OE   THE  FAITHFUL. 


SERMON  VIL 

THH  OOUMANDBB  OF  THE  FAITHFUL. 

**  LeoUBg  onto  Jesai,  the  Aathor  and  rinisher  of  onr  Caitb."— Hit.  il.  I. 

Wh  have  heard,  in  the  previous  chapter,  the  great  muster- 
roll  of  the  heroes  of  the  faith,  whose  lives  of  heroic  endn- 
ranee  and  supernatural  strength  are  laid  as  the  basis  of 
the  exhortation  in  the  previous  verse  :  "  Let  us  lay  aside 
every  weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us." 

They  are  figured  as  a  luminous  "  cloud  of  witnesses.** 
They  are  witnesses,  inasmuch  as  they  testify  how  noble  a 
thing  life  may  be  made  when  inspired  by  faith  ;  inasmuch, 
too,  as  they  testify  of  the  faithfulness  of  God,  Who  never 
left  them,  even  in  their  sorrows,  and  Who  now  bears  wit- 
ness to  them  that  they  were  righteous.  They  compass  us 
like  a  luminous  cloud,  or  like  that  background  of  one  of 
Raphaers  great  pictures,  which  at  first  sight  seems  only  a 
bright  mist,  but  looked  at  more  closely  is  all  full  of  calm 
angel-faces.  But  here  in  our  text  one  solitary  figure  shines 
out,  and  all  the  "cloud  of  witnesses"  fades  away  like 
morning  mist. 

Christ's  place  is  apart  from  theirs.  They  stand  grouped 
together,  the  army  of  the  faithful ;  He  stands  alone,  its 
Captain  and  Commander.    Their  lives  may  be  a  moUre 


78  THE  COMMANDER  OF  THE  FAITHFUL. 

for  perseverance,  and  we  may  say  "  seeing  we  are  com- 
passed  about  with  so  great  a  clond  ...  let  ns  run  with 
patience."  But  He  gives  the  power  by  which  we  can  run, 
and  "  looking  unto  Jesus  "  is  the  condition  on  which  alone 
we  can  fulfil  the  command. 

And  BO  we  have  to  consider  the  remarkable  aspects  and 
relationships  in  reference  to  our  faith,  in  which  Christ  is 
here  set  forth. 

I. — First  we  have  Him  as  Leader  and  Commander  of  the 
great  army  of  the  faithful — "Jesus,  the  Author  of  our 
faith." 

Now,  I  need  not  remind  many  of  you,  I  suppose,  of  two 
facts  bearing  upon  the  interpretation  of  these  words.  First, 
that  that  little  word  "our"  is  a  supplement,  and  may 
without  detriment,  and  with  some  advantage,  be  omitted  ; 
and  second,  that  the  word  "  author  "  here  does  not  mean  so 
much  "  one  who  originates  "  or  "  causes  "  as  "  one  who  be- 
gins and  leads." 

It  is  the  same  expression  at  that  which  is  employed,  as 
some  of  you  know,  in  the  second  chapter  of  this  epistle, 
and  is  rendered,  there  "  the  Captain  of  our  salvation  ";  and 
is  employed  once  more  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and 
is  there  translated  "the  Prince  of  Life."  In  all  these 
passages  the  most  natural  meaning  is,  beginner,  leader,  or 
forerunner,  one  coming  in  advance  of  those  who  follow. 
And  so  Christ  is  here  represented,  not  so  much  as  one 
Who  originates  faith  in  men's  hearts,  but  as  the  Leader  of 
all  the  long  procession  of  those  who  live  by  faith.  He  is 
the  " Commander  of  the  faithful,"  "the  Captain  of  the 
Lord's  host "  of  believing  souls.  True,  the  heroes  whose 
names  are  enrolled  in  the  glorious  catalogue  of  the  pre- 
ceding chapter  were  before  Him  in  time.  ^  But  the  com- 
mander may  march  in  the  centre,  as  well  as  in  the  van,  and 
Bven  in  order  of  time.  He  is  the  Beginner  or  Leader,  inas- 
mach  M  He  is  the  first  Who  ever  lived  a  perfect  life  of 


THE- COMMANDER  OP  THE   FAITHFUL.  79 

faith.  Jesns,  then,  is  here  presented  to  ns  as  Himself 
exercising  faith,  as  being  the  great  Pattern  and  Example 
of  it. 

And  bearing  upon  this  remarkable  conception  of  our 
Lord,  observe  the  use  here  of  the  personal  name  Jesns, 
not  the  name  of  office,  Christ.  Stress  is  thereby  laid  up- 
on the  humanity  of  our  Lord.  The  Man  Jesus  was  so 
truly  one  of  ourselves  that  He,  too,  lived  the  life  which 
He  lived  in  the  flesh  by  faith. 

This  is  the  only  place  in  the  New  Testament  in  which 
faith  is  attributed,  in  so  many  words,  to  our  Lord.  But 
in  this  same  epistle,  in  an  earlier  chapter,  we  find  the 
writer  adducing  it  as  one  of  the  clearest  proofs  of  His 
true  manhood  and  brotherhood  with  us,  that  the  words  of 
the  psalm  "  I  will  put  my  trust  in  Him  "  may  stand  as 
the  embodiment  of  the  very  spirit  of  His  life.  We  do 
not  give  sufficient  prominence  in  our  thoughts  of  Christ's 
earthly  life,  to  this  aspect  of  it — that  it  was  one  of  faith. 
He  is  our  Pattern  in  this  as  in  all  that  belongs  to  hu- 
manity. He  proved  His  manhood  not  only  by  His  par- 
ticipation in  our  corporeal  necessities,  though  his  share  in 
them  does  touchingly  show  ns  how  really  He  was  our 
Brother.  He  sat  wearied  by  the  well,  He  hungered.  He 
thirsted,  He  slept,  He  felt  pain.  He  died.  Nor  are  we  to 
look  upon  His  participation  in  our  common  human  emo- 
tions as  being  the  selectest  proof  of  His  humanity ; 
precious  as  it  is  to  know  that  He  sorrowed  and  rejoiced  and 
wept,  and  was  grieved,  and  wondered  and  pitied,  and  was 
angry.  But  we  are  to  see  His  brotherhood  in  this,  that 
all  which  binds  us  men  to  God  in  the  acts  of  humble  de- 
pendence and  filial  trust  belonged  to  His  experience,  and 
that,  as  He  is  pattern  in  all  else,  He  is  pattern  in  this  too. 
jgis  lifejvvas  a  life  of  faith,  and  its  life  breath  was  prayer. 

For  faith  is  dependence  upon  God,  and  surely  never 
did  human  being  so  utterly  hang  upon  the  Father,  nor 


dO  THE  COMMAJ^DEB  Of    tUU.   FAITHFUL. 

submit  himself  so  absolutely  to  be  moulded  and  determined 
by  Him,  nor  yield  his  will  up  so  completely  to  that  will 
as  did  He  Who  could  say,  "  The  living  Father  hath  sent 
Me,  and  I  live  by  the  Father." 

Faith  is  communion,  and  surely  never  did  a  spirit  dwell 
in  such  deep  and  constant  realisation  of  a  Divine  presence 
and  a  Divine  sustaining  as  did  that  Christ  Who  could  say 
"  the  Father  hath  not  left  Me  alone,  for  I  do  always  the 
things  that  please  Him."  That  pure  mirror,  without  a 
flaw,  without  a  distortion,  ever  reflected  the  brightness  of 
the  Father's  face  ;  and  the  unbroken  continuity  of  Christ's 
communion  with  God  by  faith  is  witnessed  to  us  by  that 
exceeding  great  and  bitter  cry  which  He  put  forth  on  the 
Cross,  when  the  weight  of  a  world's  sin  snapped  even 
that  strong  bond  ;  and  with  a  strange  new  sense  of  deso- 
lation, He  had  to  say,  "  My  God  1  why  hast  Thou  forsaken 
Me?" 

Faith  is  the  vivid  realisation  of  the  unseen  ;  and  surely 
never  was  there  a  life  lived  amidst  the  shows  and  gauds 
and  illusions  of  time  which  so  manifestly  and  trans- 
parently was  all  passed  in  the  vivid  consciousness  of  that 
unseen  world,  as  was  the  life  of  that  Son  of  Man,  Who,  in 
the  midst  of  all  earth's  engagements,  could  call  Himself 
"  the  Son  of  Man  which  is  in  Heaven." 

Faith  is  a  life  of  assured  confidence  in  an  unseen  future, 
and  surely  never  was  there  a  life  which  was  so  entirely 
dominated  by  that  unseen  hope,  as  His  life,  Who,  as  the 
next  clause  says  :  "  For  the  joy  that  was  set  before  Him, 
endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame." 

And  so,  dear  brethren,  this  Jesus,  in  the  absoluteness 
of  His  dependence  upon  the  Father,  in  the  completeness 
of  His  trust  in  Him,  in  the  submission  of  His  will  to  that 
Supreme  command,  in  the  unbroken  communion  which 
He  held  with  God,  in  the  vividness  with  which  the 
Unseen  over  burned  before  Him,  and  dwarfed  and  ex- 


THB  00MMA17DEB  OF  THE  FAITHFUL.  81 

tingaished  all  the  lights  of  the  present,  and  in  the  respect 
•*  which  He  had  unto  the  recompense  of  reward ;' 
nerving  Him  for  all  pain  and  shame,  has  set  before  ns  all 
the  example  of  a  life  of  faith,  and  it  our  Pattern,  as  in 
everything,  in  thii  too. 

How  blessed  it  is  to  feel,  when  we  reach  ont  our  hands 
and  grope  in  the  darkness  for  the  unseen  hand,  when  we 
try  to  bow  our  wills  to  that  Divine  will ;  when  we  try  to 
look  beyond  the  mists  of  **  that  dim  spot  which  men  call 
earth,**  and  to  discern  the  land  that  is  very  far  off ;  and 
when  we  try  to  nerve  ourselves  for  duty  and  sacrifice  by 
bright  visions  of  a  future  hope,  that  on  this  path  of  faith 
too,  when  He  **  putteth  forth  His  sheep,  He  goeth  before 
them,*'  and  has  bade  us  do  nothing  which  He  Himself  hai 
not  done  I  •*  I  will  put  My  trust  in  Him,**  He  says  first, 
and  then  He  turns  to  ns,  and  commands,  *'  Believe  in 
God,  believe  also  in  Me.*' 

II. — But  that  is  not  all  that  our  text  gives  ns.  This 
relationship  between  Christ  and  faith,  that  of  pattern  and 
•xample,  by  no  means  exhausts  the  truth.  So  we  have 
added  a  very  significant  expression,  which  leads  us  to 
consider  Christ  next  as  being  set  forth  here  as  the 
•*  Finisher,"  or  Perf ecter  "  of  faith.** 

That  word  has  received  a  great  many  explanationB, 
with  which  I  do  not  need  to  trouble  you  ;  but  instead  of 
the  translation  of  our  Authorised  Version,  "Finisher," 
which  is  ambiguous,  we  may  adopt  that  given  in  the 
Revised  Version,  "  Perfecter."  How  then  does  Christ 
perfect  faith  ?  I  think  we  may  answer  that  He  does  so 
in  a  twofold- way. 

First,  Christ  perfects  onr  faith  inasmuch  as  by  His  ovni 
grace  flowing  into  us  He  sustains  it  and  leads  it  to  sove- 
reign power.  It  would  be  a  very  poor  affair  if  all  we  had 
to  say  to  men  was  : — **  There  is  a  beautifnl  example ; 
follow  it  I"    Models  are  all  very  well,  only  nnfortanately 

a 


32  THE  COMMANDBB  OF   TH£  FAITHFUL. 

there  is  nothing  in  a  model  to  eecnre  its  being  copied. 
You  may  have  a  most  exquisite  piece  of  penmanship 
lithographed  on  the  top  of  the  page  in  a  child's  copybook, 
but  what  is  the  good  of  that  if  the  poor  little  hand  is 
trembling  when  it  takes  the  pen,  and  if  the  pen  has  got 
no  ink  in  it,  or  the  child  does  not  want  to  learn  ?  Copy- 
books are  all  very  well,  bnt  yon  want  something  more 
than  copybooks.  There  are  plenty  of  good  examples  in 
this  world.  The  world  is  not  damned  for  want  of  good 
examples,  but  these  are  not  all  that  is  needed.  A  so- 
called  Christianity  that  has  nothing  more  to  say  about 
Jesus  Christ  than  that  He  is  the  perfect  example  of  all 
human  excellences,  and  of  faith  too,  is  not  the  one  for  a 
poor  man  that  has  found  out  the  plague  of  his  own  heart, 
and  the  weakness  of  his  own  will.  He  wants  something 
that  will  come  a  great  deal  closer  to  Him  than  that.  And 
so  my  text  tells  us  that  Jesus  is  not  only  *'  the  Leader  of 
^th,"  but  the  ^\Perfecter'**  of  it  too.  He  will  set  you  the 
pattern,  and  then,  if  you  will  let  Him,  He  will  come  into 
your  hearts,  and  make  you  able  to  copy  the  pattern.  He 
will  bridge  over  the  great  hopeless  gulf  that  lies  between 
the  perfect  Example  and  our  depraved  tastes  and  sluggish 
wills  and  limited  and  shattered  powers  and  He  will  come 
and  put  His  Spirit  into  our  spirits.  If  you  only  begin  to 
trust  Him  in  the  very  smallest  degree,  that  will  be  the 
opening  of  the  chink  through  which  He  will  pass,  and  in 
passing  will  widen  the  aperture,  that  more  of  His  grace 
and  love  may  come  into  your  hearts.  He  will  perfect 
faith  by  the  implanting  in  your  hearts  of  His  own  spirit 
and  His  own  life. 

He  will  lead  our  faith  to  sovereign  power  in  our  lives, 
if  we  will  only  let  Him  do  it,  by  another  way,  too— by 
the  path  of  discipline  and  of  sorrow  ;  drawing  away 
•ur  hearts  from  earthly  things  and  fixing  them  upon 
Himgelf ;  making  the  world  dark  that  the  sky  above  may 


THB  COMMANDBB  OF  THB  FAITHFUL.  83 

be  brighter,  and  revealing  Himself  to  otir  loneliness  ai 
the  all-sufficient  Companion.     So  He  perfects  onr  faith. 

And  He  will  do  it  in  another  way  too,  by  the  rewards 
and  blessings  which  He  will  give  to  the  imperfect  and 
tentalTve""'  exercise  of  our  confidence,  over-answering 
our  petitions,  and  flooding  us  with  more  than  we  ex- 
pected when  we  tremulously  tried  to  trust  in  Him  ;  and 
so  inducing  us  to  be  bolder  in  our  confidence,  and  to 
venture  further  afield.  Thus,  He  draws  us  further  out 
into  the  great  sea  of  His  love.  As  a  boy  learning  to 
swim,  after  trying  in  the  shallows  and  finding  that  the 
water  bears  him  up,  has  confidence  to  strike  out  into 
deeper  water,  so  Christ  perfects  our  faith  by  rewarding 
it ;  and  with  a  smile,  when  we  are  surprised  at  the  great- 
ness of  His  bestowments,  says  to  us  :  "  The  Lord  is  able 
to  give  thee  much  more  than  these."  "  Open  thy  mouth 
wide  and  I  will  fill  it." 

And  not  only  so,  but  in  another  aspect  that  dear  Lord 
is  the  Perfecter  of  our  faith,  inasmuch  as  He  gives  to  our 
faith  at  the  last  the^  full  salvation  which  is  its  aim  and 
end.  A  thing  may  be  said  to  be  perfected  when  it  either 
reaches  its  highest  degree,  or  when  it  attains  its  object. 
And  80  Christ  is  the  Perfecter  of  our  faith,  not  only  in  the 
sense  that  He  raises  and  educates  it  up  to  its  loftiest  form, 
but  also  that  He  bestows  upon  it  at  the  last  that  which  is, 
B8  Peter  says,  its  "end,** or  "  perfecting,'*  "  even  the  salva- 
tion of  our  souls."  And  in  this  aspect  we  may  almost  take 
the  word  "  Perfecter"  here  to  be  equivalent  to  that  of  the 
other  idea  of  Rewarder.  Our  faith  is  perfected  when  the 
unseen  things  are  unveiled,  when  the  communion  with 
God  is  complete,  when  we  see  Christ  as  He  is  and  clasp 
Him  in  the  close  embrace  of  Heaven,  and  when  the 
crown  of  life  is  bestowed  which  He  has  promised  to 
them  that  love  Him. 

But  that  consnmmation  of  faith  in  the  full  salvatioii  is 

OS 


84  THB  COMilANDER  OP  THE   FAITHFUL. 

HOt  its  termination,  for  faith  will  live  through  eternity, 
not  in  the  form  of  realising  and  hoping  for  an  nnseen 
future,  but  in  the  form  of  confidence  in  God  ;  and  for  ever 
it  will  be  true — "  Now  abideth  these  three  ;  Faith,  Hope, 
Charity."  And  His  work  of  perfecting  our  faith,  which 
assuredly  He  shall  crown  with  th«  laurel  of  victory,  seeing 
that  He  sustains  it  amidst  the  conflicts  of  earth,  is  made 
certain  for  us  by  the  fact  referred  to  in  the  immediate 
context,  that  He  is  now  sitting  at  the  right  hand  at  the 
Throne  of  God.  The  words  which  follow  my  text  seem 
to  refer  to  both  portions  of  it — "  Who,  for  the  joy  that 
was  set  before  Him,  endured  the  cross,  despising  the 
shame," — there  is  the  Leader  of  our  faith — "and  is  set 
down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Throne  of  God," — there  is 
the  Rewarder  of  our  faith.  Because  He  is  there  He  will 
bring  us  there.  We  look  to  the  toiling,  the  patient, 
Buffering,  earthly  Christ,  and  we  see  in  Him  the  Captain 
Who  calls  us  to  follow  Him  in  the  good  fight  of  faith. 
We  lift  our  eyes  to  the  Heavenly  throned  Christ,  and  we 
see  in  Him  the  Forerunner,  Who  for  us  has  entered  into 
the  rest  and  glory,  and  we  rejoice  in  confidence  that  His 
triumph  is  the  pledge  of  ours,  that  He  will  sustain  our 
faith  that  it  fail  not,  and  at  last  will  crown  even  our  poor 
trust  with  the  crown  of  life. 

III. — That  leads  me  to  say  one  last  word  about  that 
"  looking  to  Jesus  "  which  is  the  indispensable  condition 
of  "  running  the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 

The  occupation  of  heart  and  mind  with  Jesus  Christ  is 
the  secret  of  practical  Christianity.  The  measure  in 
which  I  think  about  Him,  and  in  which  the  thought  of 
Him  has  power  in  my  daily  life,  is  accurately  the  measure 
of  my  religion.  That  and  no  more  is  the  extent  to  which 
I  am  a  Christian.  How  much  are  you  a  Christian  ? 
**  Looking  unto  Jesus  " — once  a  week,  on  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing ?      For  five  minutes,  now  and  then,  when  there   ia 


THB  OOMMJLNDSR  OF  TBB  FAITHVUL.  85 

nothing  else  to  do  ?  In  »  formal  prayer  when  yon  get  up 
in  the  morning ;  in  a  wearied  prayer  before  yon  tumble 
into  bed  at  night  ?  Is  that  the  extent  of  it  ?  «•  Looking 
unto  JeeuB  "  as  a  propitiation.  Who  died  for  you,  that — 
■omehow  or  other — you  may  get  pardon,  and  do  not  much 
mlAd  whether  you  get  holinesB  or  not?  Ib  that  your 
**  looking  unto  JeBUt'7  That  ii  not  the  looking  unto 
JoBUB  that  will  eyer  help  you  to  run  the  race  of  a  noble 
life,  or  will  bring  you  a  crown  at  the  laat  There  must  be 
a  loTing,  believing,  habitual  look. 

Look  to  Him  as  your  pattern,  and  be  ashamed  ;  look  to 
Him  aB  your  pattern  and  be  instructed  ;  look  to  Him  as 
your  pattern  and  be  encouraged.  It  is  an  education  to 
leve  Him  and  live  with  Him.  Transformation  comes  by 
beholding.  The  eye  that  looks  upon  the  light  has  an 
image  of  the  light  formed  upon  its  ball,  and  the  man  that 
looks  to  Christ  gets  like  Christ,  and  **  beauty  bom  of  **  that 
gaie  ''shall  pass  into  his  face.'* 

Look  to  Him  as  the  Sustainer  of  your  faith.  In  your 
feebleness,  when  life  is  low,  when  hope  is  almost  dead, 
when  temptations  are  tyrannous  and  strong,  think  of  Him, 
and  think  in  trust.  And  if  you  will  cry  to  Him,  "  Lord  I 
I  believe  !  help  Thou  mine  unbelief,"  you  will  be  able 
thankfuUy  to  repeat  after  one  of  old,  "  When  I  said,  my 
foot  Blippeth,  Thy  mercy,  0  Lord,  held  me  up."  Look  to 
Him  as  your  Rewarder,  and  be  of  good  cheer  and  let  the 
prospect  of  that  great  crown  stimulate  and  sustain  and  lift 
you  above  the  ills  and  the  sorrows  of  life. 

And  last  of  all,  there  is  an  untranslated  preposition  in 
one  of  the  words  of  my  text  to  which,  perhaps,  it  is  not 
straining  too  much  to  give  emphasis.  The  full  rendering 
of  the  expression  "looking"  is  looking  away.  That 
points  to  the  need  of  looking  off  from  something  else, 
that  we  may  look  up  to  Hinu 

It  always  takes  a  resolute  effort  fixedly  to  contemplate^ 


86  THE  COMMANDER  OF  THE  FAITHFUL. 

and  to  bring  heart  and  mind  really  into  contact  witJi,  un- 
seen things  and  nnseen  persons.  And  it  takes  a  very 
strenuous  effort  to  bring  tJhe  unseen  Christ  before  the 
mind  habitually,  and  so  as  to  produce  effects  in  the  life. 
You  have  to  shut  out  a  great  deal  besides  in  order  to  do 
that ;  as  a  man  will  shade  his  eyes  with  his  hand  in  order 
to  see  some  distant  thing  the  more  clearly.  Keep  out  the 
cross  lights,  that  you  may  look  forward.  You  cannot 
see  the  stars  when  you  are  walking  down  a  town  street, 
and  the  gas-lamps  are  lit.  All  those  violet  depths  and 
calm  abysses  and  blazing  worlds  are  concealed  from 
you  by  the  glare  at  your  side— sulphurous  and  stinking. 
So,  my  brother !  if  you  want  to  see  into  the  depths  and 
the  heights,  to  see  the  Great  White  Throne  and  the  Christ 
on  it  Who  helps  you  to  fight,  you  have  to  go  out  unto 
Him  beyond  the  camp,  and  leave  all  its  dazzling  lights 
behind  you. 

•*  Look  off  unto  Jesus.**  Look  away  from  other  patterns 
and  examples,  look  away  from  the  illusory  joys  of  earth — 
the  golden  apples  which  hinder  us  in  the  race.  Look 
away  from  other  helpers  and  supports,  precious  and  dear 
as  they  may  be.  Look  away  from  the  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers. When  a  man  is  walking  along  some  narrow  ledge 
amongst  the  Alps  with  the  precipice  at  his  side,  the  guide 
will  say  to  him  :  **  Do  not  look  down,  or  you  perish." 

Your  only  hope  is  looking  up.  When  Peter  saw  the 
water  boisterous,  he  began  to  sink.  Fix  your  eye  on 
Christ,  and  then  your  tottering  faith  will  go  in  safety. 

Look  away  from  yourselves.  You  will  get  no  strength 
by  looking  at  your  own  weakness,  no  righteousness  by 
looking  at  your  own  sinfulness,  no  healing  by  contem- 
plating your  own  disease.  The  only  cure  is  to  turn  away 
your  eyes  from  the  world  and  yourself,  from  all  other 
helpers  and  patterns,  to  forget  both  the  army  of  the 
faithful  and  the  army  of  the  aliens,  and  to  look  at  the 


THB  GOMMANDBB  OF  THE  FAITHrXTIt.  S7 

Commander,  and  take  yonr  example  and  yonr  ftimiiliif, 
youi  hope  and  yonr  strength  from  Him. 

And  oh,  then,  dear  friends,  be  sure  of  this,  that  if  amid 
all  onr  weakness  and  weariness,  our  solitude,  our  sorrow, 
and  our  sin,  we  look  up  to  Him  with  trustful  hearts  and 
recognise  Him  in  all  the  fulness  and  variety  of  His  mani- 
fold relations  to  us  and  to  our  faith,  the  old  experience 
will  be  fulfilled  in  us  ;  and  of  us  it  will  be  true  :— "  This 
poor  man  cried  and  the  Lord  heard  him.  They  looked 
unto  Him,  and  wtrt  lightened,  and  their  faces  were  not 
ashamed. '  * 


THE   COMMANDER^S    CONFLICT  AND  TRIUMPH. 


SERMON  VIII. 


THE    commander's    CONFLICT    AND    TRIUMPH. 

"  Who  for  the  Joy  that  was  set  before  Him,  endured  the  Cross,  despising  the  shame, 
and  Is  set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God."— Heb.  xil.  2. 

OUB  Lord  is  described  in  the  former  part  of  this  verse  ai 
snstaining  a  doable  relation  to  our  faith,  viz.,  as  being  hi 
Bome  sense  the  Leader  of  the  army  of  the  faithfnl,  the 
Pattern  for  all  believers ;  and  secondly,  as  being  the  Per 
fecter  of  their  faith. 

These  two  aspects  of  onr  Lord's  work  are  farther  set 
forth  in  these  words,  the  former  of  which  presents  Him 
with  more  detail  as  the  Pattern  whom  believers  have  to 
follow ;  and  the  latter  as  set  at  the  right  h^nd  of  God, 
that  from  thence  He  may  help  those  who  are  still  strag- 
gling here  below. 

I  may  then  complete  the  former  sermon  by  looking  at 
this  farther  expansion  of  the  leading  ideas  with  which  it 
wai  occapied. 

We  have  set  forth  here,  then,  as  the  great  object  of  con- 
templation which  will  assist  Christians  "  in  ranning  the 
race  set  before  them,"  first,  the  Commander's  conflict,  and 
our  share  in  it ;  and  second,  the  Commander's  triomph, 
•nd  our  ihare  in  that 


92       THB  COMMANDER'S  CONFLICT  AND  TRIUMPH. 

I.— First,  the  Commander's  conflict : "  Who  for  the  joy  that 
was  Bet  before  Him,  endured  the  Cross,  despising  the  shame." 

Now,  there  are  three  points  about  our  Lord's  life  set 
forth  in  these  three  clauses,  which,  taken  together,  present 
another  phase  of  it  than  that  which  is  most  common  in 
Scripture.  We  have  th«  motive  of  His  sufferings  given 
as  b«ing  an  unseen  reward  for  Himself,  which  He  brought 
vividly  before  Him  by  the  exercise  of  His  faith.  We 
have  His  sufferings  presented,  not  in  reference  to  their 
saving  power,  bat  solely  as  an  instance  of  heroic  patient 
endurance.  And  we  have  the  contumely  and  shamt  of 
Hii  death  adduced  not  as  showing  to  us  His  willing  self- 
abasement  and  His  loving  lowliness,  but  ai  revealing  to 
us  the  scorn  with  which  He  looked  upon  all  hindrances 
that  sought  to  bar  His  path  and  shake  His  resolute  will. 

These  three  things  then,  thrown  together,  present  to  us 
A  somewhat  unfamiliar,  but  most  blessed  and  most  true 
and  helpful  aspect  of  our  Lord's  character  and  sufferings. 
Let  us  look  at  each  one  of  them  as  a  pattern  for  us. 

First,  then,  we  have  our  Lord's  whole  life  represented 
as  being  shaped  and  influenced  by  a  vivid  realisation  of 
an  unseen  reward  ;  which  vivid  realisation  He  owed  to 
His  faith.  What  was  this  unseen  reward  ?  The  "  joy 
that  was  set  before  Him."  The  image  of  the  race  is 
carried  on  here  from  the  previous  verses.  At  the  winning 
post  hangs  the  glittering  crown,  full  in  the  view  of  the 
runners  ;  so  shining  afar,  and  ever  in  the  eye  of  that  fight- 
ing, struggling  Captain  of  our  salvation,  hung  the  gleam- 
ing glories  of  the  "  joy  that  was  set  before  Him." 

And  what  was  the  joy  ?  I  think  the  subsequent  words 
of  the  text  must  be  taken  as  being  the  answer  to  it,  for 
"the  joy  that  was  set  before  Him"  is  naturally  interpreted 
as  the  joy  into  which  He  has  entered,  viz..  His  session  at 
the  right  hand  of  God,  or  in  other  words,  the  lifting  up 
of  His  Manhood  into  a  participation  with  Divinity. 


THB  COMMANDER'S  CONFLICT   AND    TRIUMPH.       93 

Now  that  is  not  the  motive  for  Christ's  snfferings 
which  is  generally  set  before  us  in  the  New  Testament. 
We  have  them  nsnally  traced  to  one  of  two  great  and 
solemn  motives, — the  one,  obedience  to  God,  and  the 
other,  love  to  man.  But  there  is  no  contradiction  be- 
tween the  more  common  representation  and  that  of  our 
text.  The  ons  motive  does  not  exclude  the  others. 
Though  the  immediate  object  of  the  author  in  this 
context  leads  him  to  bring  out  here  one  motive  alone,  he 
presents  the  others  in  other  parts  of  his  letter,  and  has 
much  to  say  about  the  brotherly  love  and  filial  obedience 
ind  priestly  pity  which  impelled  Jesus  to  His  sufferings. 
Here  these  others  are  presupposed,  and  we  have  to  com- 
bine all  these  various  representations,  and  to  remember 
that  along  with  the  strong  impulse  of  obedience  to  the 
will  of  the  Father,  and  in  perfect  harmony  with  self- 
forgetting  and  supreme  love  to  the  whole  world,  another 
strand  of  the  golden  cord  which  bound  our  great  Sacrifice 
to  the  horns  of  the  altar  was  the  thought  of  the  joy  that 
was  to  come  to  Himself,  which  was  His  sitting  at  the  right 
hand  of  the  Throne. 

And  if  this  seems  to  introduce  an  element  of  self- 
regard  into  our  Lord's  passion,  which  strikes  cold  on  our 
hearts,  let  us  not  forget  that  all  that  exaltation  is  for  our 
sakes,  that  it  had  all  been  left  for  our  sakes  by  the  Incar- 
nate Word,  and  that  all  which  He  won  by  His  cross  and 
passion,  was  but  the  entrance  of  His  manhood  into  the 
glory  which  was  His  own  before  the  world  was.  Nor  art 
we  to  forget  that  He  is  "/or  us  entered  "  within  the  veil 
nor  that  His  exaltation  is  in  order  to  His  saving  to  thi^ 
uttermost  them  who  come  unto  God  by  Him.  As  He  did 
not  look  upon  His  equality  with  God,  before  His  incar- 
nation, as  a  thing  to  be  eagerly  retained,  so  He  did  noi 
look  upon  His  sitting  on  the  Father's  Throne,  after  His 
passion,  as  a  thing  to  be  eagerly  desired  for  Himself 


94       THE  GOMMANDBB'B  0017FLI0T  AND  TRIUMPH. 

alone,  but  chiefly  because  by  it  He  could  carry  on  and 
complete  His  great  work.  So  that  we  may  allowably  say 
that  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  the  salvation  of  His  servants. 
**  He  shall  see  the  travail  of  His  soul  and  be  satisfied.** 
The  joy  of  the  shepherd  when  he  bears  the  lost  sheep  on 
his  shoulders,  and  the  joy  of  the  householder  when  the 
lost  treasure  is  recovered,  and  the  joy  of  a  true  elder 
brother  when  the  prodigal  comes  home — are  all  blended 
in  that  great  motive  which  nerved  Jesus  for  His  cross, 
and  form  not  only  a  part,  but  the  chief  part  of  the  joy 
that  was  set  before  Him. 

This  issue  of  our  Lord's  life  He  had  to  keep  before  Him- 
self by  a  constant  effort.  He  trod  the  same  path  which 
others  have  to  tread.  He,  too,  like  Abraham  and  Moses, 
and  the  others  in  the  previous  chapter,  had  to  keep  his 
conviction  of  an  unseen  good,  bright  and  powerful,  by  an 
effort  of  will,  while  surrounded  by  the  illusions  of  time 
and  sense.  His  faith  grasped  the  unseen,  and  in  the 
strength  of  that  conviction  impelled  Him  to  do  and  suffer. 

We  have  the  same  path  to  tread.  We  too,  if  we  are  to 
do  anything  in  this  world  befitting  or  like  our  Master, 
must  rule  our  lives  in  the  same  fashion  as  our  Master 
ruled  His.  That  is  to  say,  we  must  subordinate  rigidly 
the  present,  and  all  its  temptations,  fascinations,  cares, 
joys  and  sorrows  to  that  far-off  issue  discerned  by  faith 
and  by  faith  alone,  but  by  faith  clearly  ascertained  to  be  the 
one  real  substance,  the  thing  for  which  it  is  worth  while  to 
live  and  blessed  to  die.  A  life  of  faith,  a  life  of  effort  to 
keep  ever  before  us  the  unseen  crown  will  be  a  life  noble 
and  lofty.  We  are  ever  tempted  to  forget  it.  The  "  Man 
with  the  muck-rake,"  in  John  Bunyan's  homely  parable, 
was  so  occupied  with  the  foul-smelling  dung-heap  which 
he  thought  a  treasure,  that  he  had  no  eyes  for  the  crown 
hanging  a  hair's  breadth  over  his  head.  A  hair's  breadth  ? 
Yes !  And  yet  the  distance  was  as  great  as  if  the  uni- 
Teme  had  lain  between. 


THB  COMMA  NDBR'a  CONFLICT  AND  TRIUMPH.       95 

Every  man*B  life  is  ennobled  in  the  measnre  in  which 
he  liveg  for  a  fntnre.  Even  if  it  be  a  poor  and  near 
future,  in  so  far  as  it  is  future,  snch  a  life  is  better  than  a 
life  that  is  lived  for  the  present.  A  man  that  gets  his 
wages  once  in  a  twelve-month  will  generally  be,  in  certain 
respects,  a  higher  type  of  man  than  he  wjio  gets  them  once 
a  week.  To  take  far-off  views  is,  pro  tanto,  as  far  as  it 
goes — an  elevation  of  humanity.  To  be  absorbed  in  the 
present  moment  is  to  be  degraded  to  the  level  of  the 
beasts. 

And  you  Christian  people  may  have  ever  before  you  as 
your  aim  the  loftiest  of  all  future  objects.  The  Christian 
"  prize,"  which  faith  makes  clear  te  us,  has  the  great  ad- 
vantage over  all  other  objects  of  pursuit — that  it  is  too  far 
off  ever  to  be  reached  and  left  behind.  Men  in  this 
world  win  their  objects  or  lose  them  ;  but  in  either  case 
they  pass  them  and  leave  them  in  the  rear.  Whether  is  it 
better  to  creep,  like  the  old  mariners,  from  headland  to 
headland,  altering  your  course  every  day  or  two,  or  to 
strike  boldly  out  into  the  great  deep,  steering  for  a  port 
on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  that  you  never  beheld, 
though  you  know  it  is  there  ?  Which  will  be  the  nobler 
voyage  ?  If  one  looks  at  the  lives  of  most  professing 
Christian  people,  yours  and  mine,  it  seems  as  if  we  had 
but  a  very  dim  vision  of  this  glory.  And  surely,  surely,  if 
there  is  one  thing  that  needs  to  be  rung  into  your  ears, 
dear  brethren,  compassed  about  as  you  are  by  the  fascina- 
tions, temptations,  and  occupations  of  this  life,  it  is  that 
old  eihortation,  never  more  needed  than  by  the  worldly- 
minded  Christians  of  this  day,  "  Set  your  affections  on 
things  above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth.**  Take  Christ 
for  your  example,  and  live,  "having  respect  unto  the 
recompense  of  the  reward.** 

We  have  also  our  Lord's  life  set  forth  before  us  here 
ai  being  the   Captain's  great  pattern  to  His  soldiers  of 


96      THE  0OMMANDBR*S  OONFLIOT  AlTD  TRIUMPH. 

heroic  endurance.  **  He  endored  the  Cross.**  And  that 
does  not  merely  mean  **  experienced  the  pain,**  but  it 
means  stood  steadfast  under,  endured  in  the  fullest  and 
noblest  sense  of  the  word.  Many  a  man  endnres  suffer- 
ing in  the  lower  sense  who  does  not  endure  it  in  the 
higher ;  but  Christ  did  so  in  both.  And,  of  oonrse,  that 
endurance  of  the  Cross  was  not  confined  to  the  moments 
of  His  life  when  the  actual  physical  pain  of  the  Crucifixion 
was  upon  Him,  but  stretched  through  His  whole  career. 
For  if  we  belieTC  the  testimony  of  the  Apostle  John,  the 
certainty  of  the  Cross  was  before  Him  from  the  very 
beginning  of  His  work  ;  and  it  waa  in  the  opening  hours 
of  His  ministry  that  He  said,  "  Destroy  this  temple,  and 
in  three  days  I  will  build  it  up;**  and  to  the  Jewish 
ruler :  **  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  so  must  the  Son  of 
Man  be  lifted  up.*'  Therefore  we  may  apply  this  **  en- 
durance **  of  my  text,  not  only  to  the  moment  of  actual 
suffering  of  the  physical  fact  of  the  Crucifixion,  bat  t9 
the  whole  of  our  Lord's  earthly  career. 

The  word  emphasises,  in  accordance  with  the  whola 
strain  of  the  context,  the  patient,  heroic  steadfastness  with 
which  He  bore  them.  That  is  an  aspect  of  our  Lord*i 
character  that  is  not  often  enough  presented  to  onr  minds. 
The  velvet  glove  has  hidden  the  iron  hand  in  popular 
apprehension.  That  will  like  adamant  could  not  ba 
moved,  could  not  be  broken,  and  never  faltered.  Tempta- 
tions which  shatter  feebler  resolutions,  as  the  waves  soma 
crumbling  dyke,  broke  like  the  vain  spray  against  that 
breakwater.  His  fixed  will  led  Him  to  tread,  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end  of  His  career,  a  path  every  step  of  which 
was  strewed  with  hot  ploughshares  and  sharp  iworda. 
He  trod  it  with  bleeding  and  with  seared  feet,  but  with- 
out a  quiver,  and  without  a  falter.  As  the  hour  drew 
near,  we  read  that  "  He  steadfastly  set  His  face  **— made 
it  hard  as  a  flint — to  go  to  Jerusalem,  impelled  by  that 


THB  commander's  CONFLICT  AND  TRIUMPH.       97 

threefold,  mighty  force  of  obedience  to  the  Father,  love  to 
man,  and  vision  of  the  glory,  do  that  His  disciples  were 
struck  with  wonder  and  awe  at  the  fixed  determination 
stamped  on  the  settled  countenance,  and  manifested  in  the 
eager  steps  which  outran  them  On  the  rocky  road  to  the 
Gross. 

Brethen,  that  heroic  endurance  must  be  ours  too,  If  we 
are  not  to  rot  in  selfish  and  inglorious  ease.  Life  at  first 
may  seem  gay  and  brilliant,  a  place  for  recreation,  or 
profit,  or  pleasure,  but  we  very  soon  find  out  that  it  is  a 
sand-strewn  wrestling  ground.  Many  flowers  cannot 
grow  where  are  the  feet  of  the  runner  and  the  strife  of  the 
combatants.  The  first  thing  done  to  make  an  arena  for 
wrestlers  is  to  take  away  the  turf  and  the  daisies,  then  to 
beat  the  soil  down  hard  and  flat.  And  so  our  lives  get 
flattened,  stripped  of  their  beauty,  and  their  fragrance, 
because  they  are  not  meant  to  be  gardens,  but  wrestling 
grounds.  There  come  to  every  life  that  is  worth  living 
hours  of  sacrifice  when  duty  can  only  be  done  at  the  cost 
of  a  bleeding  heart.  Every  man  that  is  not  the  devil's 
servant  has  to  carry  a  cross,  and  to  be  fastened  to  it,  if  he 
will  do  his  Master's  work.  Besides  which  crucifixion  In 
service,  there  are  all  the  other  common  sorrows  storming 
in  upon  us,  so  that  sometimes  it  is  as  much  as  a  man  can 
do  not  to  be  swept  away  by  the  current  but  to  keep  his 
footing  in  mid-channel.  Brethren  I  If  you  are  to  run  the 
race  that  is  set  before  you,  the  first  lesson  to  learn  is  this  : 
you  have  to  "  endure  the  cross,"  and  the  way  to  endure 
the  cross  is  to  look  unto  the  crown,  and  the  Christ. 

The  last  of  the  points  in  which  our  Lord  here  is  set 
forth  as  the  Captain  Whose  struggles  are  the  pattern  for 
His  people,  is  in  what  I  may  call  the  wholesome  and  wise 
contempt  for  the  ills  that  bar  His  progress  : — **  despising 
the  shame.'* 

Gontempt  is  an  ugly  word,  but  there  are  things  whieh 

H 


98      THB  OOMMANDEB'S  CONFLIOT  AND  TRIUMPH. 

deserve  it ;  and  though  we  do  not  often  associate  the  idea 
of  it  with  the  meek  and  gentle  Christ,  there  were  things 
in  His  life  on  which  it  was  exercised.  He  despised  the 
contumely.  That  is  to  say  :  He  reduced  it  to  its  true  in- 
significance by  taking  the  measure  of  it,  and  looking  at  it 
as  it  was.  And  that  is  what  I  want  you  to  feel  we  all  of 
US  have  in  our  power.  There  are  hosts  of  difficulties  in 
our  lives  as  Christian  men,  which  will  be  big  or  little, 
just  as  we  choose  to  make  them.  Yon  can  either  look  at 
them  through  a  magnifying  or  a  diminishing  glass.  The 
magnitude  of  most  of  the  trifles  that  afEect  us  may  be 
altered  by  our  way  of  looking  at  them.  Learn  the  practi- 
cal wisdom  of  minimising  the  hindrances  to  your  Christian 
career,  pulling  them  down  to  their  true  smallness.  Do 
not  let  them  come  to  you  and  impose  upon  you  with  the 
notion  that  they  are  big  and  formidable.  The  most  of 
them  are  only  white  sheets  with  a  rustic  boor  behind 
them,  like  village  ghosts.  Go  up  to  them  and  they  will 
be  small  immediately.  **  Despise  the  shame,**  and  it  dis- 
appears. 

And  how  is  that  to  be  done  ?  In  two  ways.  Go  up  the 
mountain,  and  the  things  in  the  plain  will  look  very  small ; 
the  higher  you  rise  the  more  insignificant  they  will  seem. 
Hold  fellowship  with  God,  and  live  np  beside  your 
Master,  and  the  threatening  foes  here  will  seem  very, 
very  unformidable. 

Another  way  is — pull  up  the  curtain,  and  gaze  on  what 
is  behind  it  The  low  foot-hills  that  lie  at  the  base  of 
some  Alpine  country  may  look  high  when  seen  from  the 
plain,  as  long  as  the  snowy  summits  are  wrapped  in  mist, 
but  when  a  little  puff  of  wind  comes  and  clears  away  the 
fog  from  the  lofty  peaks,  nobody  looks  at  the  little  green 
hills  in  front.  So  the  world^s  hindrances,  and  the  world*e 
difificnlties  and  cares,  look  very  lofty  till  the  cloud  lifts 
Bui  wh«n  we  see   the  great  white  summits,  everything 


THB  COMMANDER'S  CONFLICT  AND  TRIUMPH.       99 

lower  does  not  seem  so  very  high  after  all.  Look  to 
JesuB,  and  that  will  dwarf  the  difficulties. 

II. — And  now,  I  have  only  space  for  a  word  or  two 
about  the  second  thought,  the  Commander's  triumph,  and 
our  share  in  it.  He  is  set  down  "  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
throne  of  God." 

I  need  not  dwell  at  any  length  upon  the  great  ideas 
attached  to  that  wonderful  phrase,  but  just  ask  you  to 
remember  that  the  new  thing  which  accrued  because  of 
Christ's  Incarnation  and  sacrifice  was  that,  as  our  text 
puts  it  with  great  emphasis,  "  Jesi^  sat  at  the  right  hand 
of  the  Throne " ;  or,  to  put  it  into  other  words,  that  the 
humanity  of  our  Lord  and  Brother  was  lifted  up  to  a 
participation  in  Divinity  and  the  rule  of  the  universe. 
That  "sitting"  expresses  Rest,  as  from  a  finished  and 
perfect  work  ;  a  Rest  which  is  not  inactivity ;  Dominion 
extending  over  all  the  universe,  and  Judgment.  These 
three,  Rest,  Dominion,  Judgment,  are  the  prerogatives  of 
the  Man  Jesus,  That  is  what  He  won  by  His  bloody 
passion  and  sacrifice. 

And  now  what  has  that  to  do  with  ns?  We  are  to 
think  of  this  triumph  of  the  Commander  as  being,  first  of 
all,  a  revelation  and  a  prophecy  for  us.  Nobody  knows 
anything  about  the  future  life  except  by  means  of  Jesus 
Christ.  We  have  no  knowledge  of  another  world  except 
as  we  believe  in  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from 
the  dead  and  His  Ascension  up  on  high.  We  may  have 
dreams,  we  may  have  hopes,  we  may  have  forebodings, 
we  may  argue  from  analogy,  we  may  get  the  length  of 
saying  "  peradventure,"  "  probably  "  ;  but  we  cannot  say 
we  know^  unless  we  will  consent  to  take  all  our  light, 
and  all  our  knowledge,  and  all  our  certitude,  and  all  our 
hope  from  that  great  Lord  Whose  death  and  resurrection 
are  to  the  whole  world  the  only  guarantee  of  the  future. 
Whose  presence  there  ii  the  only  light  in  all  the  darkness. 

h2 


100      THE  COMMANDER'S  CONLPIOT  AND  TRIUMPH. 

In  His  exaltation  to  the  Throne  a  new  hope  dawns  on 
humanity.  If  we  believe  that  the  Man  Jesus  sits  on  the 
throne  of  the  universe,  we  have  a  new  conception  of 
what  is  possible  for  His  brethren.  If  a  perfect  human 
nature  has  entered  into  the  participation  of  the  Divine, 
our  natures  too  may  be  perfect,  and  what  He  is  and 
where  He  is,  there,  too,  we  may  hope  to  come.  So  this 
Epistle  in  the  second  chapter,  quoting  the  grand  words 
of  the  Psalm,  which  sometimes  and  in  some  moods  seem 
more  like  irony  than  revelation :  "  Thou  hast  crowned 
Him  with  glory  and  honour;  Thou  hast  put  all  things 
under  His  feet,"  comments  :  "  We  see  not  yet  all  things 
put  under  Him."  Nay,  much  the  contrary.  Look  at  all 
this  weary  world,  with  its  miseries  and  its  cares.  What 
has  become  of  the  grand  dream  of  the  psalm  ?  Has  it  all 
gone  into  moonshine  and  vapour  ?  "  We  see  not  yet  all 
things  put  under  Him."  Weary  centuries  have  rolled 
away,  and  it  does  not  seem  a  bit  nearer.  "  But  we  see 
Jesus  crowned  with  glory  and  honour."  He,  and  not  all 
these  failures  and  abortions  of  existing  manhood, — He  is 
the  type  of  what  God  means  us  to  be,  and  of  what  we  all 
may  one  day  become.  This  crowned  Jesus  has  "  tasted 
death  for  every  man."  And  so,  brethren,  sad,  and  mad, 
and  bad  as  men  may  be,  the  conquering  Captain  at  the 
right  hand  of  God*B  Throne  is  the  measure  and  the 
pattern  of  what  the  worst  of  us  may  hope  to  be. 

And,  still  further,  Christ^s  triumphal  entrance  into  the 
heavens  is  not  only  prophecy  of  ours  but  it  is  power  to  ful- 
fil its  own  prophecy.  He  has  gone  up  on  high,  sitting  at 
the  right  hand  of  the  Throne  of  God  to  work  for  us.  His 
work  is  not  done.  True,  on  the  Cross  He  proclaimed  •*  It 
is  finished,"  but  the  ending  of  the  work  on  the  Cross  was 
but  the  beginning  of  a  form  of  His  work  for  us,  which 
shall  never  cease  until  the  trumpet  of  victory  shall  sound 
*  It  if  done,"  when  the  world  haa  yielded  t«  Hia  1ot#.  H« 


OOMMANDBR'S  OONFLIOT   AND  TRIUMPH.       101 

works  for  hb,  with  ns,  and  In  ub,  as  Lord  of  Providence 
and  King  of  Grace,  snstaining  and  Dpholding  ns  in  all  our 
weakness,  and  tending  the  smoky  flame  of  our  dim  faith 
till  it  bursts  into  clear  radiance.  The  Captain  has  gone  up 
from  the  field,  and  His  soldiers  are  still  in  it.  But  He 
has  not  left  them  to  struggle  alone.  He  Bits  on  high, 
looking  down  on  ns  stiii  fighting  in  the  arena  with  wild 
beasts  ;  but  He  does  not  only  behold  but  also  helps  our 
conflict,  as  Stephen,  looking  up,  saw  Him  "  standing,"  not 
Bitting,  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  as  if  He  had  sprung  to 
His  feet  to  succour  and  receive  the  martyr's  spirit  Nor  is 
He  exalted  only  to  work  for,  and  in  us,  or  to  shed  on  our 
hearts  the  plenteous  rain  of  His  heavenly  influences.  He 
has  entered  within  the  veil  as  our  Great  High  Priest,  to 
make  intercession  for  us,  so  making  ns  confident  that  His 
great  sacrifice  is  ever  present  to  the  Divine  mind,  as 
determining  its  acts  towards  those  who  trust  in  Christ 
Nor  is  our  share  in  His  exaltation  limited  by  these  great 
privileges,  for  He  has  gone  to  prepare  a  place  for  us,  and 
dimly  as  we  know  what  that  means,  we  know,  at  all 
events,  that  but  for  Christ's  presence  there  Heaven  would 
be  no  place  for  ub. 

Nor  is  this  all,  for,  if  we  have  given  onr  hearts  to  Him 
and  are  joined  to  the  Lord  by  faith,  we  are,  in  a  very  pro- 
found sense,  one  Spirit  with  Him.  So  real  is  the  union 
between  us  and  Jesus,  that  it  cannot  be  that  the  Head 
shall  be  glorified  and  the  members  have  no  share  in  the 
glory.  The  Captain  of  Salvation  is  laurelled  and  crowned, 
and  all  His  soldiers,  the  weakest  and  the  sinfullest 
amongst  them,  if  only  they  are  knit  to  Him  by  humble 
faith,  share  in  His  victory,  receive  from  His  Throne 
showers  of  grace  and  blessing,  which  He  pours  down 
upon  them,  are  inspired  by  His  continual  presence  Who 
"  teaches  their  hands  to  war  and  their  fingers  to  fight,** 
and  will  be  brought  at  last  by  Him  coming  for  them  again, 
to  a  Bhar«  in  His  throne. 


102      THB  GOMMANDBB'S  CONFLIOT  AJSD  TRIUMPH. 

And  eo  each  of  Di,  if  only  we  take  Christ  for  our  Lord 
and  Commander,  may  say,  in  the  calmness  of  a  confident 
hope,  what  David's  soldier  said  to  him  in  the  heroism  of 
his  self-devotion,  "  As  my  Lord  the  King  liveth,  in  what 
place  soever  my  Lord  the  King  shall  be,  whether  ia  lif^ 
or  death,  there  alao  ahall  thy  senraat  be.** 


THE  CARRION  AND  THE  VULTURES. 


SERMON  DC. 


THE    CARRION    AND    THE   VULTURES. 

"  Wheresoever  the  carcass  Is,  there  will  the  eagles  be  gathered  together."— Mat r. 
xxlv.  38. 

This  grim  parable  has,  of  coarse,  a  strong  Eastern 
colouring.  It  Ia  best  appreciated  by  dwellers  in  tho^je 
ianda.  They  tell  as  that  no  sooner  is  some  sickly  animal 
dead,  or  some  piece  of  carrion  thrown  oat  by  the  way, 
than  the  Taltores — for  the  eagle  does  not  prey  upon 
carrion — appear.  There  may  not  have  been  one  visible 
a  moment  before  in  the  hot  bine  sky,  bat  tanght  by  scent 
or  by  sight  that  their  banquet  is  prepared,  they  come 
flocking  from  all  comers  of  the  heavens,  a  hideous  crowd 
round  their  hideous  meal,  fighting  with  flapping  wings 
and  tearing  it  with  their  strong  talons.  And  so,  says 
Christ,  wherever  there  is  a  rotting,  dead  society,  a  carcass 
hopelessly  corrupt  and  evil,  down  upon  it,  as  if  drawn  by 
some  unerring  attraction,  will  come  the  angel,  the  vulture 
of  the  Divine  judgment. 

The  words  of  our  text  were  spoken,  according  to  the 
Tersion  of  them  in  Luke*B  Gospel,  in  answer  to  a  ques- 
tion from  the  disciples.  Our  Lord  had  been  discoursing, 
in  very  solemn  words,  which,  starting  from  the  historical 
event  of  the  impending  fall  of  Jerusalem,  had  gradually 


106  THB  OARBION  AND  THB  YULTUBBa. 

passed  into  a  description  of  the  greater  event  of  Hit 
second  coming.  And  all  these  solemn  warnings  had 
stirred  nothing  deeper  in  the  bosoms  of  the  disciples  than 
a  tepid  and  idle  cnriosity  which  expressed  itself  in  the 
one  almost  irrelevant  question,  "  Where,  Lord  ? "  He 
answers — not  here,  not  there,  but  everywhere  where  there 
is  a  carcass.  The  great  event  which  is  referred  to  in  our 
Lord's  solemn  words  is  a  future  judgment,  which  is  to  be 
universal.  But  the  words  are  not  exhausted  in  their 
reference  to  that  event.  There  have  been  many  "  comings 
of  the  Lord,"  many  "days  of  the  Lord,"  which  on  a 
smaller  scale  have  embodied  the  same  principles  as  shall 
be  displayed  in  world-wide  splendoni^  and  awf ulness  at 
the  last. 

I. — The  first  thing,  then,  in  these  most  true  and  solemn 
words  is  this,  that  they  are  to  ns  a  revelation  of  a  law 
which  operates  with  unerring  certainty  through  all  the 
course  of  the  world's  history. 

We  cannot  tell,  but  God  can,  when  evil  has  become  in- 
curable ;  or  when,  in  the  language  of  my  text,  the  man 
or  the  community  has  become  a  carcass.  There  may  be 
fiickerings  of  life,  all  unseen  by  our  eyes,  or  there  may 
be  death,  all  unsuspected  by  our  shallow  vision.  So  long 
as  there  is  a  possibility  of  amendment,  **  sentence  against 
an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily ;"  and  God  dams 
back,  as  it  were,  the  flow  of  His  retributive  judgment ; 
"  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that  all  should 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.**  But  when  He  sees 
that  all  is  vain,  that  no  longer  is  restoration  or  recovery 
possible,  then  He  lets  loose  the  flood  ;  or,  in  the  language 
of  my  text,  when  the  thing  has  become  a  carcass,  then 
the  vultures,  God*s  scavengers,  come  and  clear  it  away 
from  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Now  that  is  the  law  that  has  been  working  from  the 
beginning,  working  as  well  in  regard  of  the  long  delayg 


THB  CARRION  AND  THB  VULTURSa  107 

as  in  regard  of  the  ewift  execution.  There  is  another 
metaphor,  in  the  Old  Testament,  that  puts  the  same  idea 
in  a  very  striking  form.  It  speaks  about  God*8  "  awaken- 
ing/* as  if  His  judgment  slumbered.  All  round  that  dial 
there  the  hand  goes  creeping,  creeping,  creeping  slowly, 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  appointed  line,  then  the  bell 
strikes.  And  so  years  and  centuries  go  by,  all  chance  of 
recovery  departs,  and  then  the  crash  I  The  ice  palace, 
built  upon  the  frozen  blocks,  stands  for  a  while,  but 
when  the  spring  thaws  come  it  breaks  up.  Just  let  me 
remind  you  of  some  instances  and  illustrations.  Take 
that  story  which  people  stumble  over  in  the  early  part 
of  the  Old  Testament  revelation — the  sweeping  away  of 
those  Canaanitish  nations  whose  hideous  immoralities 
had  turned  the  land  inte  a  perfect  stye  of  abominations. 
There  they  had  been  wallowing,  and  God's  Spirit,  which 
strives  with  men  ever  and  always,  had  been  striving 
with  them,  we  know  not  how  long,  but  when  the  time 
came  at  which,  according  to  the  grim  metaphor  of  the  Old 
Testament,  "  the  measure  of  their  iniquity  was  full,"  then 
He  hurled  upon  them  the  fierce  hosts  out  of  the  desert, 
and  in  a  whirlwind  of  fire  and  sword  swept  them  oft 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

Take  another  illustration.  These  very  people  who  had 
been  the  executioners  of  Divine  judgment  settled  in  the 
land,  fell  into  the  snare — and  you  know  the  story.  The 
captivities  of  Israel  and  Judah  were  other  illustrations 
of  the  same  thing.  The  fall  of  Jerusalem,  to  which  our 
Lord  pointed  in  the  solemn  context  of  these  words,  was 
another.  For  millenniums  God  had  been  pleading  with 
them,  sending  His  prophets,  rising  early  and  sending, 
saying,  "  Oh,  do  not  do  this  abominable  thing  which  I 
hate  I"  "And  last  of  all  He  sent  His  Son."  Christ 
being  rejected,  God  had  shot  His  last  bolt.  He  had  no 
more  that  He  oonld  do.    Christ  being  refused,  the  nation's 


108  THl  OABRION  AND  THB  YXTLTirBBS. 

doom  was  fixed  and  i ealed,  and  down  came  the  eagles  of 
Rome,  again  God's  scavengers,  to  sweep  away  the  nation 
on  which  had  been  lavished  such  wealth  of  Divine  love, 
but  which  had  now  come  to  be  a  rotting  abomination,  and 
to  this  day  remains  a  living  death,  a  miraonlonsly  pre- 
served monument  of  God*s  judgments. 

Take  another  illustration  how,  once  more,  the  exeea- 
tants  fall  under  the  power  of  the  law.  That  power 
which  crushed  the  feeble  resources  of  Judaea  as  a  giant 
might  crush  a  mosquito  in  his  grasp,  in  its  turn  became 
honeycombed  with  abominations  and  immoralities ;  and 
then  down  from  the  frozen  North  came  the  fierce  Gothie 
tribes  over  the  Roman  territory.  One  of  them  called 
himself  the  "  Scourge  of  God,"  and  he  was  right.  Another 
•wooping  down  of  the  vultures  flashes  from  the  blue 
heavens,  and  the  carrion  is  torn  to  fragments  by  their 
strong  beaks. 

Take  one  more  illustration — ^that  French  Revolution 
at  the  end  of  the  last  century.  The  fathers  sowed  the 
wind,  and  the  children  reaped  the  whirlwind.  Genera- 
tions of  heartless  luxury,  selfishness,  carelessness  of  the 
ery  of  the  poor,  immoral  separation  of  class  from  class, 
and  all  the  sins  which  a  ruling  caste  could  commit  against 
•  subject  people,  had  prepared  for  the  convulsion.  Then, 
in  a  carnival  of  blood  and  deluges  of  fire  and  sulphur,  the 
rotten  thing  was  swept  oft  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  the 
world  breathed  more  freely  for  its  destruction. 

Take  another  illustration,  through  which  many  of  us 
have  lived.  The  bitter  legacy  of  negro  slavery  that 
England  gave  to  her  giant  son  across  the  Atlantic,  which 
blasted  and  sucked  the  strength  out  of  that  great  republic, 
went  down  amidst  universal  execration.  It  took  oen- 
tnries  for  the  corpse  to  be  ready,  but  when  the  vultures 
aame  they  made  quick  work  of  it 

ind  Ml  as  I  say,  all  over  the  worid,  and  from  the 


THB  GA&EION    AND  TUB   VULTURB8.  109 

beginning  of  time,  with  delays  according  to  the  possibili- 
ties  of  restoration  and  recovery  which  the  Divine  eye 
discerns,  this  law  is  working.  Verily  there  is  a  God  that 
judgeth  in  the  earth.  **The  wheels  of  God  grind  slowly 
but  they  grind  exceeding  small."  **  Wheresoever  the  car- 
eass  is,  there  will  the  eagles  be  gathered  together.** 

And  has  the  law  exhausted  its  force  ?  Are  there  going 
to  be  no  more  applications  of  it  ?  Are  there  no  European 
•ooieties  at  this  day  that  in  their  godlessness  and  social 
iniquities  are  hurrying  fast  to  the  condition  of  carrion  ? 
Look  around  us— drunkenness,  sensual  immorality,  com- 
mercial dishonesty,  senseless  luxury  amongst  the  rich, 
heartless  indifference  to  the  wail  of  the  poor,  godlessness 
over  all  classes  and  ranks  of  the  community.  Surely, 
surely,  if  the  body  politic  be  not  dead  it  is  sick  nigh  unto 
death.  And  I,  for  my  part,  have  little  hesitation  in 
saying  that  as  far  as  one  can  see,  European  society  is 
driving  as  fast  as  it  can,  with  its  godlessness  and  im- 
morality, to  such  another  **day  of  the  Lord**  as  these 
words  of  my  text  suggest.  Let  us  see  to  it  that  we  do 
our  little  part  to  be  the  salt  of  the  earth  which  shall  keep 
it  from  rotting,  and  lo  drive  away  the  vultures  of  judg- 
ment 

II.— But  let  me  turn  to  another  point.  We  have  here 
a  law  which  shall  have  a  tuc  more  tremendous  accomplish- 
ment in  the  future. 

There  have  been  many  eomings  of  the  Lord,  many  days 
of  the  Lord,  when,  as  Isaiah  says  in  his  magnificent 
vision  of  one  such,  **  the  loftiness  of  man  has  been  bowed 
down,  and  the  haughtiness  of  man  made  low,  and  the 
Lord  alone  exalted  in  that  day  when  He  arisea  to  shake 
terribly  the  earth.** 

And  all  these  *'  days  of  the  Lord  **  are  prophecies,  and 
distinctly  point  to  a  future  **  day,**  when  the  same  prinoi- 
ples  whieii  have  been  disclosed  aa  working  mt  a  amali 


110  THB  CARRION  AND  THE  VULTUBB8. 

scale  In  them,  shall  be  manifested  in  full  embodiment 
These  "  days  of  the  Lord  "  proclaim  "  the  day  of  the  Lord.** 
In  the  prophecies  both  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments 
that  universal  future  judgment  is  Been  glimmering 
through  the  descriptions  of  the  nearer  partial  judgments. 
So  interpreters  are  puzzled  to  say  at  what  point  in  a 
prophecy  the  transition  is  made  from  the  smaller  to  the 
greater.  The  prophecies  are  like  the  diagrams  in  treatises 
on  perspective,  in  which  diverging  lines  are  drawn  from 
the  eye,  enclosing  a  square  or  other  figure,  and  which,  as 
they  recede  further  from  the  point  of  view,  enclose  a 
figure,  the  same  in  shape  but  of  greater  dimensions. 
There  is  a  historical  event  foretold,  the  fall  of  Jerusalem. 
It  is  close  'flp  to  the  eyes  of  the  disciples,  and  is  compara- 
tively small.  Carry  out  the  lines  that  touch  its  corners 
and  define  its  shape,  and  upon  the  far  distant  curtain  of 
the  dim  future  there  is  thrown  a  like  figure  immensely 
larger,  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ  to  judge  the  world. 
411  these  little  premonitions  and  foretastes  and  antici- 
patory specimens  point  onwards  to  the  assured  termina- 
tion of  the  world's  history  in  that  great  and  solemn  day, 
when  all  men  shall  be  gathered  before  Christ*8  throne, 
and  He  shall  judge  all  nations — ^judge  you  and  me 
amongst  the  rest.  That  future  judgment  is  distinctly  a 
part  of  the  Christian  revelation.  Jesus  Christ  is  to  come 
in  bodily  form  as  He  went  away.  All  men  are  to  be 
judged  by  Him.  That  judgment  is  to  be  the  destruction 
of  opposing  forces,  the  sweeping  away  of  the  carrion  of 
moral  evil. 

It  is  therefore  distinctly  a  part  of  the  message  that 
is  to  be  preached  by  us,  under  penalty  of  the  awful  con- 
demnation pronounced  on  the  watchman  who  seeth  the 
sword  coming  and  gives  no  warning.  It  is  not  becoming 
to  make  such  a  solemn  message  the  opportunity  for  pic- 
torial rhetoric,  which  vulgarises  its  greatness  and  weak- 


THB  CARRION   AND  THB   VULTURES.  Ill 

eni  itf  power.  Bnt  It  if  worse  than  an  offence  against 
taste ;  it  is  nnfaithfulness  to  the  preaching  which  Qod 
bidB  us,  treason  to  our  King,  and  cruelty  to  our  hearers, 
to  suppress  the  warning — "  the  day  of  the  Lord  cometh." 
There  are  many  temptations  to  put  it  in  the  background. 
Many  of  you  do  not  want  that  kind  of  preaching.  You 
want  the  gentle  side  of  Divine  revelation.  You  say  to 
us  in  fact,  though  not  in  words,  "  Prophesy  to  us  smooth 
things.*'  Tell  us  about  the  infinite  love  which  wraps  all 
mankind  in  its  embrace.  Speak  to  us  of  the  Father  God, 
Who  hateth  nothing  that  He  hath  made.  Magnify  the 
mercy  and  gentleness  and  tenderness  of  Christ.  Do  not 
say  anything  about  that  other  side.  It  is  not  in  accord- 
ance with  the  tendencies  of  modem  thought. 

So  much  the  worse,  then,  for  the  tendencies  of  modem 
thought.  I  yield  to  no  man  in  the  ardour  of  my  belief 
that  the  centre  of  all  revelation  is  the  revelation  of  a 
God  of  infinite  love,  but  I  cannot  forget  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  **  the  terror  of  the  Lord,**  and  I  dare  not 
disguise  my  conviction  that  no  preaching  sounds  every 
string  in  the  manifold  harp  of  God*s  truth,  which  does  not 
strike  that  solemn  note  of  warning  of  judgment  to  come. 

Such  suppression  is  unfaithfulness.  Surely,  if  we 
preachers  believe  that  tremendous  truth,  we  are  bound  to 
speak.  It  is  cruel  kindness  to  be  silent.  If  a  traveller 
is  about  plunging  into  some  gloomy  jungle  infested  by 
wild  beasts,  he  is  a  friend  who  sits  by  the  wayside  to  warn 
him  of  his  danger.  Surely  you  would  not  call  a  signal- 
man unfeeling  because  he  held  out  a  red  lamp  when  he 
knew  that  just  round  the  curve  beyond  his  cabin,  the 
rails  were  up,  and  that  any  train  that  reached  the  place 
would  go  over  In  horrid  ruin.  Surely  that  preaching  is  not 
justly  charged  with  harshness  which  rings  out  the  whole- 
some proclamation  of  a  day  of  judgment,  when  we  shall 
each  give  account  of  ourselves  to  the  Divine-human  Jad|^ 


112  THE   CARRION  AND  THE   VULTURES. 

Snch  suppression  weakens  the  power  of  the  Gospel, 
which  is  the  proclamation  of  deliverance,  not  only  from 
the  power,  but  also  from  the  future  retribution  of  sin.  In 
such  a  maimed  Gospel,  there  ii  but  an  enfeebled  meaning 
given  to  that  idea  of  deliverance.  And  thongh  the  thing 
that  breaks  the  heart  and  drawi  men  to  God  is  not  terror 
but  love,  the  terror  must  often  be  evoked  in  order  to  lead 
to  love.  It  is  only  **  judgment  to  come  "  which  will  make 
Felix  tremble,  and  though  his  trembling  may  pass  away, 
and  he  be  none  the  nearer  the  Kingdom,  there  will  never 
any  good  be  done  to  him,  unless  he  does  tremble. 

So  for  all  these  reasons,  all  faithful  preaching  of 
Christ's  Gospel  must  include  the  proclamation  of  Christ 
as  Judge. 

But,  if  I  should  be  unfaithful,  if  I  did  not  preach  this 
truth,  what  shall  we  call  you  if  yon  turn  away  from  it  ? 
You  would  not  think  it  a  wise  thing  of  the  engine- 
driver  to  shut  his  eyes  if  the  red  lamp  were  shown,  and 
to  go  along  at  full  speed  and  to  pay  no  heed  to  that.  Do 
you  think  it  would  be  right  for  a  Christian  minister  to 
lock  his  lips  and  never  say  :  "  There  is  a  judgment  to 
come**?  And  do  you  think  it  is  wise  of  you  not  to  think 
of  that,  and  to  shape  your  conduct  accordingly  ? 

Oh,  dear  friends  1 1  do  not  doubt  that  the  centre  of  all 
Divine  revelation  is  the  love  of  God,  nor  do  I  doubt  that 
incomparably  the  highest  representation  of  the  power  of 
Christ's  Gospel  is  that  it  draws  men  away  from  the  love 
and  the  practice  of  evil,  and  makes  them  pure  and  holy. 
But  that  is  not  all.  There  is  not  only  the  practice  and 
the  power  of  sin  to  be  fought  against,  but  there  is  the 
penalty  of  sin  to  be  taken  into  account ;  and  as  sure  as  you 
are  living,  and  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  above  us,  so  sure 
is  it  that  there  is  a  Day  of  Judgment,  when  He  will  judge 
the  world  in  righteousness  by  the  Man  whom  He  haUi 
ordained.    The  believing  of  that  is  not  salvation,  but  thf 


THE   CARRION   AND  THB   VULTURES,  118 

belief  of  that  seems  to  me^  to  be  indispensable  for  any 
vigorous  grasp  of  the  delivering  love  of  God  in  Jestui 
Christ  oiir  Lord. 

in. — And  so  the  last  thing  that  I  have  to  say  is  that 
this  is  a  law  which  need  never  touch  you,  nor  you  know 
anything  about  but  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear. 

It  if  told  «•  that  w«  may  escape  it.  When  Paul  rea- 
soned of  righteoufness,  and  temperance,  and  judgment  to 
come,  hii  hearer  trembled  as  he  listened,  but  there  was 
an  end.  But  the  true  effect  of  this  message  is  the  effect 
that  Paul  himself  attached  to  it  when  he  said  in  the  hear- 
ing of  Athenian  wisdom,  "  God  hath  commanded  all  men 
everywhere  to  repent^  because  He  hath  appointed  a  day 
in  the  which  He  will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness.*' 
Judgment  faithfully  preached  is  the  preparation  for  preach- 
ing that — **  there  is  no  condemnation  to  them  which  are  in 
Christ  Jesus."  If  we  trust  in  that  great  Saviour,  we  shall 
be  quickened  from  the  death  of  sin,  and  so  shall  not  be 
food  for  the  vultures  of  judgment.  Can  these  corpses  live  ? 
Can  this  eating  putrescence,  which  burrows  its  foul  way 
through  our  souls,  be  sweetened  f  Is  there  any  antiseptic 
for  it  ?  Yes,  blessed  be  Qod,  and  the  hand  Whose  touch 
healed  the  leper  will  heal  us,  and  our  flesh  will  come 
again  as  the  flesh  of  a  little  child.  Christ  has  bared  His 
breast  to  the  Divine  judgments  against  sin,  and  if  by 
faith  we  shelter  ourselves  in  Him,  we  shall  never  know 
the  terrors  of  that  awful  day. 

Be  sure  that  judgment  to  come  is  no  mere  figure 
dressed  up  to  frighten  children,  nor  the  product  of  blind 
superstition,  but  It  is  the  inevitable  issue  of  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  All-ruling  God.  You  have  to  face  it,  I  have 
to  face  it,  and  all  the  sons  of  men.  "  Herein  is  our  love 
made  perfect,  that  we  may  have  boldness  before  Him  in 
the  Day  of  Judgment"  Betake  yourselves,  as  poor  sinful 
oreatureB  who  know  something  of  the  corruption  of  your 

I 


U4  THE  OABRION  AJKD  THB  VULTUBBS. 

own  hearts,  to  that  dear  Christ  Who  has  died  on  the  Cross 
for  you,  and  all  that  is  obnoxious  to  the  Divine  judgments 
will,  by  His  transforming  life  breathed  into  you,  be  taken 
out  of  your  hearts  ;  and  when  that  day  of  the  Lord  shal] 
dawn,  you,  trusting  in  the  sacrifice  of  Him  who  is  your 
Judge,  will  **  have  a  song  as  when  a  holy  solemnity  is 
kept.**  Take  Christ  for  your  Saviour,  and  then,  when  thi. 
vultures  of  judgment,  with  their  mighty  black  pinions 
are  wheeling  and  circling  in  the  sky,  ready  to  pounce 
upon  their  prey,  He  will  gather  you  "  as  a  hen  gathereth 
her  chickens  under  her  wings,"  and  beneath  tJieir  shadow 
you  will  be  safe. 


THE   DEATH   OF  ABRAHAM. 


6EHM0N  X. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ABBAHAM. 

"Thta  Abraham  gare  np  the  ghost,  and  died  in  •  good  old  ig»,  as  old  nUHl  asd 
full  of  jmsu,  and  waa  gathered  to  hie  people."— Qbw.  xxt.  88. 

**  Full  of  years  "  does  not  eeem  to  me  to  be  a  mere 
synonym  for  longevity.  That  would  be  an  intolerable 
tautology,  for  we  should  then  have  the  same  thing  said 
three  times  over — "  an  old  man,*'  "  in  a  good  old  age,'* 
"full  of  years."  There  must  be  some  other  idea  than 
that  in  the  expression.  If  you  notice  that  the  expression 
!■  by  no  means  an  usual  one,  that  it  is  only  applied  to 
one  or  two  of  the  Old  Testament  characters,  and  those 
selected  characters,  I  think  you  will  see  that  there  must 
be  some  other  significance  in  ii  than  merely  to  point  to 
length  of  days. 

It  may  be  well  to  note  the  instances.  In  addition  to 
our  text,  we  find  it  employed,  first,  in  reference  to  Isaac, 
in  Gen.  xxxv.  29,  where  the  words  are  repeated  almost 
verbatim.  That  calm,  contemplative  life,  so  unlike  the 
active,  varied  career  of  his  father,  also  attained  to  this 
blessing  at  it8  close.  Then  we  find  that  the  stormy  and 
adventurous  course  of  the  great  king  David,  with  its 
wonderful  alternations  both  of  moral  character  and  of 
fortune,  is  represented  as  being  closed  at  laat  with  ihiM 


118  THB  DBATH  OF  ABRAHAM. 

tranquil  evening  glory  :  "  He  died  in  a  good  old  age,  fnll 
of  days,  riches  and  honour.'*  Once  more,  we  read  of 
the  great  high  priest  Jehoiada,  whose  history  had  been 
crowded  with  peril,  change,  brave  resistance,  and  etrenuons 
effort,  that  with  all  the  storms  behind  him  he  died  at  last 
"  full  of  days."  The  only  other  instance  of  the  occur- 
rence of  the  phrase  is  at  the  close  of  the  Book  of  Job,  the 
typical  record  of  the  good  man  suffering,  and  of  the 
abundant  compensations  given  by  a  loving  God.  The 
fair  picture  of  returning  prosperity  and  family  joy,  like 
the  calm  morning  sunshine  after  a  night  of  storm  and 
wreck,  with  which  that  wonderful  Book  ends,  has  this 
for  its  last  touch,  evidently  intended  to  deepen  the 
impression  of  peace  which  is  breathed  over  it  all.  "  So 
Job  died,  being  old  and  full  of  days."  These  are  all  the 
instances  of  the  occurrence  of  this  phrase,  and  I  think  we 
may  fairly  say  that  in  all  it  is  meant  to  suggest  not 
merely  length  of  days,  but  some  characteristic  of  the  long 
life  over  and  above  its  mere  length.  We  shall,  I  think, 
understand  its  meaning  a  little  better  if  we  make  a  very 
slight  and  entirely  warranted  change,  and  instead  of 
reading  **full  of  years,"  read  "  satisfied  with  years."  The 
men  were  satisfied  with  life  ;  having  exhausted  its  possi- 
bilities, having  drunk  a  full  draught,  having  nothing 
more  left  to  wish  for.  The  words  point  to  a  calm  close, 
with  all  desires  gratified,  with  hot  wishes  stilled,  with 
no  desperate  clinging  to  life,  but  a  willingness  to  let  it 
go,  because  all  which  it  could  give  had  been  attained. 

So  much  for  one  of  the  remarkable  expressions  in  this 
verse.  There  is  another :  "  He  was  gathered  to  his 
people,"  of  which  we  shall  have  more  to  say  presently. 
Enough  for  the  present  to  note  the  peculiarity,  and  to 
suggest  that  it  seems  to  contain  some  dim  hint  of  a  future 
life,  and  some  glimmer  of  some  of  the  profoundest 
Uioughts  about  it 


THB  DBATH  OF  ABBAHAIL  119 

We  have  two  main  things  to  consider. 

I. — The  tranquil  close  of  a  life. 

It  Ib  possible,  then,  at  the  end  of  life  to  feel  that  it 
has  satisfied  one's  wishes.  Whether  it  does  or  no  will 
depend  mostly  on  ourselves,  and  very  sligtitly  on  onr 
circnmstances.  Length  of  days,  competence,  health  and 
friends  are  important ;  but  neither  these  nor  any  other 
externals  will  make  the  difference  between  a  life  which, 
in  the  retrospect,  will  seem  to  have  been  sufficient  for  our 
desires,  and  one  which  leaves  a  hunger  in  the  heart.  It 
is  possible  for  us  to  make  our  lives  of  such  a  sort,  that 
whether  they  run  on  to  the  apparent  maturity  of  old  age, 
or  whether  they  are  cut  short  in  the  midst  of  our  days,  we 
may  rise  from  the  table  feeling  that  it  has  satisfied  our 
desires,  met  our  anticipation,  and  been  all  very  good. 

Possibly,  that  is  not  the  way  in  which  most  of  us  look 
at  life.  That  is  not  the  way  in  which  a  great  many  of  us 
seem  to  think,  that  it  is  an  eminent  part  of  Christian  and 
religious  character  to  look  at  life.  But  it  is  the  way  in 
which  the  highest  type  of  devotion  and  the  truest  good- 
ness always  look  at  it.  There  are  people,  old  and  young, 
who,  whenever  they  look  back,  whether  it  be  over  a  long 
tract  of  years  or  over  a  short  one,  have  nothing  to  say 
about  It  except :  **  Vanity  of  vanities  I  all  is  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit ;"  a  retrospect  of  weary  disappointments 
and  thwarted  plans. 

How  different  with  some  of  us  the  forward  and  the 
backward  look  I  Are  there  not  some  listening  to  me, 
whose  past  is  so  dark  that  it  flings  black  shadows  over 
their  future,  and  who  can  only  cherish  hopes  for  to- 
morrow, by  giving  the  lie  to  and  forgetting  the  whole  of 
their  yesterdays  ?  It  is  hard  to  paint  the  regions  before 
us  like  "  the  Garden  of  the  Lord,'*  when  we  know  that 
the  locusts  of  our  own  godless  desires  have  made  all  the 
land  behind  ns  desolate.     If  your  past  has  been  a  selfish 


120  THB  DEATH.  OF  ABRAHAM. 

past^a  godless  past,  in  which  passion,  inolinatloii,  whim, 
anything  but  consc'ence  and  Christ  have  ruled,  yonr 
remembrances  can  scarcely  be  tranquil ;  nor  your  hopei 
bright.  If  you  have  only  **  prospects  drear,**  when  you 
"backward  cast  your  eye,"  It  is  not  wonderful  i£  "for- 
wards though  you  cannot  see,"  you  will  "  guess  and  fear." 
Such  lives,  when  they  come  towards  an  end,  are  wont  to 
be  full  of  querulous  discontent,  and  bitterness.  We  have 
all  seen  godless  old  men  cynical  and  sour,  pleased  with 
nothing,  grumbling,  or  feebly  complaining  about  every- 
thing, dissatisfied  with  all  which  life  has  thas  far 
yielded  them,  and  yet  clinging  desperately  to  it,  and 
afraid  to  go. 

Put  by  the  side  of  such  an  end  this  calm  picture  of  the 
old  man  going  down  into  his  grave,  and  looking  back 
over  all  those  long  days  since  he  came  away  from  his 
father*8  house,  and  became  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger. 
How  all  the  hot  anxieties,  desires,  occupations  of  youth 
have  quieted  themselves  down  I  How  far  away  now 
seem  the  warlike  days  when  he  fought  the  barbarian 
kings  1  How  far  away  the  heaviness  of  heart  when  he 
journeyed  to  Mount  Moriah  with  his  boy,  and  whetted  the 
knife  to  slay  his  son  I  His  love  had  all  been  buried  in 
Sarah's  grave.  He  has  been  a  lonely  man  for  many  years  ; 
and  yet  he  looks,  as  God  looked  back  over  His  creative 
week,  and  feels  that  all  has  been  good.  **  It  was  all  for 
the  best ;  the  great  procession  of  my  life  has  been  ordered 
from  the  beginning  to  its  end,  by  the  hand  that  shapes 
beauty  everywhere,  and  has  made  all  things  blessed  and 
sweet  I  have  drunk  a  full  draught ;  I  have  had  enough ; 
I  bless  the  Giver  of  the  feast,  and  push  my  chair  back; 
and  get  np  and  go  away."  He  died  an  old  man,  and 
«atisfied  with  his  life. 

Ay  I  And  what  a  contrast  that  makes,  dear  friends,  to 
another  set  of  people.     There  is  nothing  more  miserable 


THB  DEATH  OF  ABRAHAM.  121 

than  to  see  a  man,  as  hii  years  go  by,  gripping  harder  and 
tighter  at  this  poor,  fleeting  world  that  is  slipping  away 
from  him  ;  nothing  sadder  than  to  see  how,  as  opportuni- 
ties and  capacities  for  the  enjoyment  of  life  dwindle,  and 
dwindle,  and  dwindle,  people  become  almost  fierce  in  the 
desire  to  keep  it.  Why,  yon  can  see  on  the  face  of  many 
an  old  man  and  woman  a  hungry  discontent,  that  has  not 
come  from  the  mere  wrinkles  of  old  age  or  care  ;  an  eager 
acquisitiveness  looking  out  of  the  dim  old  eyes,  tragical 
and  awful.  It  is  sad  to  see  a  man,  as  the  world  goes  from 
him,  grasping  at  its  skirts  as  a  beggar  does  at  the  retreat- 
ing passer-by  that  refuses  him  an  alms.  Are  there  not 
lome  of  us  who  feel  that  this  is  our  case,  that  the  less  we 
have  before  us  of  life  here  on  earth,  the  more  eagerly  we 
grasp  at  the  little  which  still  remains  ;  trying  to  get  some 
last  drops  out  of  the  broken  cistern  which  we  know  can 
hold  no  water  ?  How  different  this  blessed  acquiescence  in 
the  fleeting  away  of  the  fleeting  ;  and  this  contented  satis- 
faction with  the  portion  that  has  been  given  him,  which 
this  man  had  who  died  willingly,  being  satisfied  with 
life  I 

Sometimes,  too,  there  Is  satiety — weariness  of  life  which 
It  not  satisfaction,  though  it  looks  like  it  Its  language 
is  : — "  Man  delights  me  not ;  nor  woman  neither.  I  am 
tired  of  it  all." — Those  who  feel  thus  sit  at  the  table  with- 
out an  appetite.  They  think  that  they  have  seen  to  the 
bottom  of  everything,  and  they  have  found  everything  a 
eheat  They  expect  nothing  new  under  the  sun ;  that 
which  is  to  be  hath  already  been,  and  it  is  all  vanity  and 
striving  after  the  wind.  They  are  at  once  satiated  and 
dissatisfied.    Nothing  keeps  the  power  to  charm. 

How  different  from  all  this  is  the  temper  expressed  in 
this  text,  rightly  understood  I  Abraham  had  had  a  richly 
varied  life.  It  had  brought  him  all  he  wished.  He  L.is 
drunk  a  full  draught,  and  needs  no  more.    He  is  satisfied, 


122  THB  DEATH  OF  ABRAHAM. 

bnt  that  does  not  mean  loss  of  interest  in  present  dnties, 
occupations  or  enjoyments.  It  is  possible  to  keep  our- 
selves fully  alive  to  all  these  till  the  end,  and  to  preserve 
something  of  the  keen  edge  of  youth  even  in  old  age,  by 
the  magic  of  communion  with  God,  purity  of  conduct  and 
a  habitual  contemplation  of  all  events  as  Bent  by  onr 
Father.  When  Paul  felt  himself  very  near  his  end,  he 
yet  had  interest  enough  in  common  things  to  tell  Timothy 
all  about  their  mutual  friends'  occupation,  and  to  wish  to 
have  his  books  and  parchments. 

So,  calmly,  satisfied  and  yet  not  sickened,  keenly  ap- 
preciating all  the  good  and  pleasantness  of  life,  and  yet 
quite  willing  to  let  it  go,  Abraham  died.  So  may  it  be 
with  us  too,  if  we  will,  no  matter  what  the  duration  or 
the  externals  of  our  life.  If  we  too  are  His  children  by 
faith,  we  shall  be  "  blessed  with  faithful  Abraham.'*  And 
I  beseech  you  to  *sk  yourselves  whether  the  course  of 
your  life  is  such  as  that  if  at  this  moment  God's  great 
knife  were  to  come  down  and  cut  it  in  two,  yon  would  be 
able  to  say,  "  Well  1  I  have  had  enough,  and  now  con- 
tentedly I  go." 

Again,  it  is  possible  at  the  end  of  life  to  feel  that  it  is 
complete,  because  the  days  have  accomplished  for  us  the 
highest  purpose  of  life.  Scaffoldings  are  for  buildings, 
and  the  moments  and  days  and  years  of  our  earthly 
lives  are  scaffolding.  What  are  you  building  inside  the 
scaffolding,  brother  ?  What  kind  of  a  structure  will  be 
disclosed  when  the  scaffolding  is  knocked  away.  What 
is  the  end  for  which  days  and  years  are  given  ?  That 
they  may  give  us  what  eternity  cannot  take  away — a 
character  built  upon  the  love  of  God  in  Christ,  and 
moulded  into  His  likeness.  "  Man's  chief  end  is  to  glorify 
God  and  to  enjoy  Him  for  ever."  Has  your  life  helped 
you  do  that  ?  If  it  has,  though  you  h%  but  a  child,  you 
are  full  of  years ;  if  it  has  not,  though  your  hair  be 


THE    DEATH    OF    ABRAHAxM.  123 

whitened  with  the  snows  of  the  nineties,  you  are  yet  in- 
aomplete  and  immatnrA.  The  great  end  of  life  is  to  make 
VLB  like  Christ,  and  pleasing  to  Christ.  If  life  has  done  that 
for  ns  we  have  got  the  best  out  of  it,  and  our  life  is 
completed,  whatever  may  be  the  number  of  the  days. 
Quality,  not  quantity,  is  the  thing  that  determines  the 
perfectness  of  a  life.  And  like  as  in  northern  lands, 
T^here  there  is  only  a  week  or  two  from  the  melting  of 
the  snow  to  the  cutting  of  the  hay,  the  whole  harvest  of  a 
life  may  be  gathered  in  a  very  little  space,  and  all  be  done 
which  is  needed  to  make  the  life  complete.  Has  your 
life  this  completeness  ?  Can  you  be  **  satisfied  "  with  it, 
because  the  river  of  the  flowing  hours  has  borne  down 
some  grains  of  gold  amidst  the  mass  of  mud,  and,  not- 
withstanding many  sins  and  failures,  yon  have  thus  far 
fulfilled  the  end  of  your  being,  that  yon  are  in  some 
measure  trusting  and  serving  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ? 

Again,  it  is  poBsible,  at  the  end  of  life,  to  bo  willing  to 
go  as  satisfied. 

Most  men  cling  to  life  in  grim  desperation,  like  a  man 
to  a  cliff  giving  way,  or  a  drowning  man  clutching 
at  any  straw.  How  beautiful  the  contrast  of  the  placid, 
tranquil  acquiescence  expressed  in  that  phrase  of  our  text  1 
No  doubt  there  will  always  be  the  shrinking  of  the  bodily 
nature  from  death.  But  that  may  be  overcome.  There  is 
no  passion  so  weak  but  in  some  case  it  has  **  mated  and 
mastered  the  fear  of  death,"  and  it  is  possible  for  ns  all  to 
come  to  that  temper  in  which  we  shall  be  ready  for  either 
fortune,  to  live  and  serve  Him  here,  or  to  die  and  enjoy 
Him  yonder.  Or,  to  return  to  an  earlier  illustration,  it  is 
possible  to  be  like  a  man  sitting  at  table,  who  has  had  his 
meal,  and  is  quite  contented  to  stay  on  there,  restful  and 
cheerful,  but  is  not  unwilling  to  put  back  his  chair,  to 
get  up  and  to  go  away,  thanking  the  Giver  for  what  Im 
has  received. 


124  THE  DEATH  Of  ABRAHAM. 

Ah  I  that  ifl  the  way  to  face  the  end,  dear  brethren,  and 
how  if  it  to  be  done  ?  Such  a  temper  need  not  be  the  ex- 
cloBiTe  possession  of  the  old.  It  may  belong  to  as  at  all 
stages  of  life.  How  is  it  won  ?  By  a  life  of  devout  com- 
mnnion  with  God.  The  secret  of  it  lies  in  obeying  the 
commandment  and  realising  the  truth  which  Abraham 
realised  and  obeyed  :  "I  am  the  Almighty  God,  walk 
before  Me,  and  be  thon  perfect."  "  Fear  not,  Abram,  I 
am  thy  shield  and  thine  exceeding  great  reward.** 
That  is  to  say,  a  simple  communion  with  God,  realising 
His  presence  and  feeling  that  He  is  near,  will  sweeten 
disappointment,  will  draw  from  it  its  hidden  blessedness, 
will  make  as  victors  over  its  pains  and  its  woes.  Such 
a  faith  will  make  it  possible  to  look  back  and  see  only 
blessing  ;  to  look  forward  and  see  a  great  light  of  hope 
burning  in  the  darkness.  Such  a  faith  will  check  weari- 
ness, avert  satiety,  promote  satisfaction,  and  will  help  us 
to  feel  that  life  and  the  great  hereafter  are  but  the  outer 
and  inner  mansions  of  the  Father^s  house,  and  death  the 
short  though  dark  corridor  between.  So  we  shall  be 
ready  for  life  or  for  death. 

II. — Now  I  must  turn  to  consider  more  briefly  the 
glimpse  of  the  joyful  society  beyond,  which  is  given  us 
in  that  other  remarkable  expression  of  our  text:  **he 
was  gathered  to  his  people." 

That  phrase  is  only  used  in  the  earlier  Old  Testament 
books,  and  there  only  in  reference  to  a  few  persons.  It 
is  used  of  Abraham,  Ishmael,  Isaac,  Jacob,  Moses,  and 
Aaron,  and  once  (Judges  ii.  10)  of  a  whole  generation. 
If  you  will  weigh  the  words,  I  think  you  will  see  that 
there  is  in  them  a  dim  intimation  of  something  beyond 
this  present  life. 

**  He  was  gathered  to  his  people**  is  not  the  same  thing 
u  ''He  died,"  for,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  verse,  we 
read,**  Abraham  gave  up  the  ghost  and  died  .  .  .  and 


THB   DBATH  OF  ABRAHiJI.  125 

WM  fathered  to  his  people.**  It  ii  not  the  same  thing  as 
being  buried.  For  we  read  in  the  following  verse :  "  And 
hii  foni  Isaac  and  Ishmael  boned  him  in  the  cave  of 
Maopelah,  in  the  field  of  Ephron,  the  son  of  Zohar  the 
Hittite,  which  is  before  Mamre.**  It  is  then  the  equiva- 
lent neither  of  death  nor  of  burial.  It  conveys  dimly  and 
reiledly  that  Abraham  was  buried,  and  yet  that  was  not 
all  that  happened  to  him.  He  waa  buried,  but  also  **  he 
was  gathered  to  his  people."  Why  I  his  own  "people" 
were  buried  in  Mesopotamia,  and  his  grave  was  far  away 
from  theirs.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  expression  ? 
Who  were  the  people  he  was  gathered  to  ?  In  death 
or  in  burial,  **  the  dust  returns  to  the  earth  as  it  was." 
What  was  it  that  was  gathered  to  his  people  ? 

Dimly,  yaguely,  veiledly,  but  unmistakably,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  is  here  expressed  at  least  a  premonition  and  feeling 
after  the  thought  of  an  immortal  self  in  Abraham  that 
was  not  there  in  what  "  his  sons  Isaac  and  Ishmael  laid 
in  the  cave  at  Macpelah,"  but  was  somewhere  else  and 
was  for  ever.  That  is  the  first  thing  hinted  at  here— the 
continuance  of  the  personal  being  after  death. 

Is  there  anything  more  f  I  think  there  ii.  Now,  re- 
member, Abraham's  whole  life  was  shaped  by  that  com 
mandment,  '*  Get  thee  out  from  thy  father's  house,  and 
from  thy  kindred,  and  from  thy  country."  He  never 
dwelt  with  his  kindred ;  all  his  days  he  was  a  pilgrim  and 
a  sojourner,  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  And  though  he 
was  living  in  the  midst  of  a  civilisation  which  possessed 
great  cities  whose  walls  reached  to  heaven,  he  pitched  his 
tent  beneath  the  terebinth  tree  at  Mamre,  and  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  order  of  things  around  him,  but 
remained  an  exotic,  a  waif,  an  outcast  in  the  midst  of 
Canaan  all  his  life.  Why  ?  Because  he  "  looked  for  the 
eity  which  hath  the  foundations,  whose  builder  and 
maker  is  Qod."    And  now  he  haa  gone  to  it,  ha   if 


126  THE  DEATH  OV  ABRAFAIL 

gathered  io  his  people.  The  life  of  isolation  is  over,  the 
trne  eocial  life  is  begun.  He  is  no  longer  separated  from 
those  around  him,  or  flnng  amidst  those  that  are  nncon- 
genial  to  him.  **  He  is  gathered  to  his  people  ;'*  he  dwells 
with  his  own  tribe ;  he  is  at  home  ;  he  is  in  the  city. 

And  BO,  brethren,  life  for  every  Christian  man  must  be 
lonely.  After  all  communion  we  dwell  as  upon  islands, 
dotted  over  a  great  archipelago,  each  upon  his  little  rock, 
with  the  sea  dashing  between  us ;  but  the  time  comes 
when,  if  our  hearts  are  set  upon  that  great  Lord,  whose 
presence  makes  us  one,  there  shall  be  no  more  sea,  and 
all  the  isolated  rocks  shall  be  parts  of  a  great  continent. 
Death  sets  the  solitary  in  families.  We  are  here  like 
travellers  plodding  lonely  through  the  night  and  the 
storm,  but  soon  crossing  the  threshold  into  the  lighted 
hall  full  of  friends. 

If  we  cultivate  that  sense  of  detachment  from  the 
present,  and  of  having  our  true  affinities  in  the  unseen, 
if  we  dwell  here  as  strangers  because  our  citizenship  is 
in  heaven,  then  death  will  not  drag  us  away  from  our 
associates,  nor  hunt  us  into  a  lonely  land,  but  will  bring 
us  where  closer  bonds  shall  knit  the  "  sweet  societies " 
together,  and  the  sheep  shall  couch  close  by  one  another 
because  all  gathered  round  the  one  shepherd.  Then 
many  a  broken  tie  shall  be  re-woven,  and  the  solitary 
wanderer  meet  again  the  dear  ones  whom  he  had  **  loved 
long  since,  and  lost  awhile." 

Further,  the  expressions  suggest  that  in  the  future 
men  shall  be  associated  according  to  affinity  and  charac- 
ter, "He  was  gathered  to  his  people,'*  whom  he  was 
like  and  who  were  like  him ;  the  people  with  whom  he 
had  sympathy,  the  people  whose  lives  were  shaped  after 
the  fashion  of  his  own. 

Men  will  be  sorted  there.  Gravitation  will  come  into 
play  undisturbed ;  and  the  pebbles  will  be  ranged  accord- 


TELE  DHATH  OF  ABBAHAIL  127 

ing  to  their  weights  on  the  great  shore  where  the  sea  has 
oast  them  up,  as  they  are  upon  Chesil  beach,  down  there 
in  the  English  Channel,  and  many  another  coast  besides  ; 
all  the  big  ones  together  and  sized  off  to  the  smaller  ones, 
regularly  and  steadily  laid  out.  Like  draws  to  like.  Our 
spiritual  affinities,  our  religious  and  moral  character,  will 
settle  where  we  shall  be  and  who  our  companions  will  be 
when  we  get  yonder.  Some  of  iw  would  not  altogether 
like  to  live  with  the  people  that  are  like  ourselves,  and 
some  of  us  would  not  find  the  result  of  this  sorting  to  be 
very  delightful.  Men  in  the  Dantesque  circles  were  only 
made  more  miserable  because  all  aroxmd  them  were  of  the 
same  sort,  aod  some  of  them  worse  than  themselves.  And 
an  ordered  hell,  with  no  company  for  the  liar  but  liars,  and 
none  for  the  thief  but  thieves,  and  none  for  impure  men 
but  the  impure,  and  none  for  the  godless  but  the  godless, 
would  be  a  hell  indeed. 

"  He  was  gathered  to  his  people,"  and  you  and  I  will 
be  gathered  likewise.  What  is  the  conclusion  of  the 
whole  matter  ?  Let  us  follow  with  our  thoughts,  and  in 
our  lives  those  who  have  gone  into  the  light,  and  culti- 
vate in  heart  and  character  those  graces  and  excellences 
which  are  congruous  with  the  inheritance  of  the  saints 
in  light.  Above  all  let  us  give  our  hearts  to  Christ,  by 
simple  faith  in  Him,  to  be  shaped  and  sanctified  by  HinL 
Then  our  country  will  be  where  He  is,  and  our  people 
will  be  the  people  in  whom  His  love  abides,  and  the 
tribe  to  which  we  belong  will  be  the  tribe  of  which  He  is 
Chieftain.  So  when  our  turn  comes,  we  may  rise  thank- 
fully from  the  table  in  the  wilderness,  which  He  has  spread 
for  us,  having  eaten  as  much  as  we  desired,  and  quietly 
follow  the  dark-robed  messenger  whom  His  love  sends  to 
bring  us  to  the  happy  multitudes  that  throng  the  streets 
of  the  city.  There  we  shall  find  our  true  home,  our  kind- 
red, our  King.     **  So  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord,** 


THE   SILENCE   OF   SCKIPTURE. 


SERMON  XI 


THB   SILBNOB  OF  SOBIPTUBB. 

•  And  many  other  rigiu  trnly  did  Jestu  in  the  presence  of  His  disciples,  which  an 
■ot  written  in  this  book.  Bat  these  are  written  that  ye  might  beliere  that  Jesus  is 
the  Christ,  the  Son  of  Ood  ;  and  that  beliering  ye  might  hare  life  through  His  name." 
— JoHir  XX.  80,  81. 

It  iB  evident  that  these  words  were  originally  the  close 
of  this  Gospel,  the  following  chapter  being  an  appendix, 
subsequently  added  by  the  writer  himself.  In  them  we 
have  the  Evangelist's  own  acknowledgment  of  the  incom- 
pleteness of  his  Gospel,  and  his  own  statement  of  the 
purpose  which  he  had  in  view  in  composing  it.  That 
purpose  was  distinctly  a  doctrinal  one,  and  he  tells  us  that 
in  carrying  it  out  he  omitted  many  things  that  he  could 
have  put  in  if  he  had  chosen.  But  that  doctrinal  purpose 
was  subordinate  to  a  still  further  aim.  His  object  was 
not  only  to  present  the  truth  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God,  but  to  present  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  induce 
his  readers  to  believe  in  that  Christ.  And  he  desired 
that  they  might  have  faith  in  order  that  they  might  have 
life. 

Now,  it  is  a  very  good  old  canon  in  judging  of  a  book 
thsi  **  in  every  wwk"  we  are  to  **  regard  the  writer's  end," 
And  if  tbal  simple  principle  had  been  applied  to  this 

K  2 


193  THB  BILENOB  OF  80BIPTURB. 

Gospel,  a  great  many  of  the  features  in  It  whieh  hare  led 
to  some  difficulty  wonld  have  been  seen  to  be  naturally  ex- 
plained by  the  purpose  which  the  Evangelist  had  In  view. 
But  this  text  may  be  applied  very  much  more  widely 
than  to  John's  Gospel.  We  may  use  it,  to  point  our 
thoughts  to  the  strange  silences  and  incompletenesses  of 
the  whole  of  Revelation,  and  to  the  explanation  of  these 
incompletenesses  by  the  consideration  of  the  purpose 
which  it  all  had  in  view.  In  that  sense  I  desire  to  look 
at  these  words  before  us. 

I. — First,  then,  we  have  here  eet  forth  the  incomplete- 
ness of  Scripture. 

Take  this  Gospel  first.  Anybody  that  looks  »t  H  can 
see  that  it  is  a  fragment.  It  is  not  meant  to  be  a  bio- 
graphy ;  it  is  avowedly  a  selection,  and  a  selection  under 
the  influence,  as  I  shall  have  to  show  you  presently,  of  a 
distinct  dogmatic  purpose.  There  is  nothing  in  it  about 
Christ's  birth,  nothing  in  it  about  His  baptism,  nor  about 
His  selection  of  His  Apostles.  There  is  scarcely  anything 
about  the  facts  of  His  outward  life  at  alL  There  is 
■earoely  a  word  about  the  whole  of  His  minis^  in 
Galilee.  There  is  not  one  of  His  parables,  there  are  only 
■even  of  Hit  miracles  before  the  Resurrection,  and  two 
•f  these  occur  also  in  the  other  Evangelists.  There  is 
scarcely  any  of  His  etliical  teaching;  there  is  not  a  word 
about  the  Lord's  Supper. 

And  80  I  might  go  on  enumerating  many  remarkable 
gaps  in  this  Gospel.  Nearly  half  of  it  is  taken  up  with 
the  incidents  of  one  week  at  the  end  of  His  life,  and  the 
incidents  of  and  after  the  Resurrection.  Of  the  re- 
mainder— by  far  the  larger  portion  consists  of  several 
conversations  which  are  hung  upon  miracles  that  seem  to 
be  related  principally  for  the  sake  of  these.  The  whole 
of  the  phenomena  show  us  at  once  the  firagmentaiy 
eharaoter  of  this  Ghospel  as  stamped  upon  the  very  surfaoe. 


BHiHNOB  OV  BGBIFTURB.  1S3 

And  whMi  we  turn  to  the  other  three,  the  same  thing  is 
Ime,  thongh  legs  itriklngly  so.  Why  was  it  that  in  the 
Church,  after  the  completion  of  the  Scriptnral  canon, 
there  sprang  np  a  whole  host  of  apocryphal  gospels,  full 
of  childish  stories  of  events  which  people  felt  had  been 
passed  over  with  strange  silence,  in  the  teachings  of  the 
four  Evangelists  :  stories  of  His  childhood,  for  instance, 
and  stories  about  what  happened  between  His  death  and 
His  resurrection  f  A  great  many  miracles  were  added  to 
those  that  we  have  told  us  in  Scripture.  The  condensed 
hintf  of  the  canonical  Gospels  received  a  great  ex- 
pansion, which  indicated  how  much  their  silence  about 
certain  points  had  been  felt.  What  a  tiny  pamphlet  they 
make  I  Is  it  not  strange  that  the  greatest  event  in  the 
world's  history  should  be  told  in  such  brief  outline,  and 
that  here,  too,  the  mustard  seed, "  less  than  the  least  of  all 
seeds,**  should  have  become  such  a  great  tree  ?  Put  the 
four  Qospels  down  by  the  side  of  the  two  thick  octavo 
volumes,  which  it  is  the  regulation  thing  to  write  nowa- 
days, as  the  biography  of  any  man  that  has  a  name  at  all, 
and  you  will  feel  their  incompleteness  as  biographies. 
They  are  but  a  pen-and-ink  drawing  of  the  sun !  And 
yet,  although  they  be  so  tiny  that  you  might  sit  down  and 
read  them  all  in  an  evening  over  the  fire,  is  it  not  strange 
that  they  have  stamped  on  the  mind  of  the  world  an 
image  so  deep  and  so  sharp,  of  such  a  character  as  the 
world  never  saw  elsewhere  ?  They  are  fragments,  but 
they  have  left  a  symmetrical  and  an  unique  impression  on 
the  eonsciousneii  of  the  whole  world. 

And  then,  if  yo«  turn  to  the  whole  Book,  the  same 
thing  is  true,  though  in  a  modified  sense  there.  I  have 
no  time  to  dwell  upon  that  fruitful  field,  but  the  silence 
of  Scripture  is  quite  as  eloquent  as  its  speech.  Think, 
for  instance,  of  how  many  things  in  the  Bible  are  taken 
for  granted  whioh  one  wonld  not  expect  to  be  taken  for 


134  THB  SILENGB  OF  SORIPTURl. 

granted  in  a  book  of  religions  instrnction.  It  takes 
for  granted  the  Being  of  a  God.  It  takes  for  granted  our 
relations  to  Him.  It  takes  for  granted  our  moral  nature. 
In  its  later  portions,  at  all  events,  it  takes  for  granted  the 
future  life.  Look  at  how  the  Bible,  as  a  whole,  passes 
by,  without  one  word  of  explanation  or  alleviation,  a 
great  many  of  the  difficulties  which  gather  round  some 
of  its  teaching.  For  instance,  we  find  no  attempt  to  ex- 
plain the  Divine  nature  of  our  Lord  ;  or  the  existence  of 
the  three  Persons  in  the  Godhead.  It  has  not  a  word  to 
say  in  explanation  of  the  mystery  of  prayer  ;  or  of  the 
difficulty  of  reconciling  the  Omnipotent  will  of  God  on  the 
one  hand,  with  my  own  free  will  on  the  other.  It  has 
not  a  word  to  explain,  though  many  a  word  to  proclaim 
and  enforce,  the  fact  of  Christ's  death  as  the  atonement 
for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  Observe,  too,  how 
acanty  the  information  on  points  on  which  the  heart 
craves  for  more  light.  How  closely,  for  instance,  the 
veil  is  kept  over  the  future  life !  How  many  questions 
which  are  not  prompted  by  mere  curiosity,  our  Borrow 
and  our  love  ask  in  vain ! 

Nor  is  the  incompleteness  of  Scripture  as  a  historical 
book  less  marked.  Nations  and  men  appear  on  its  pages 
abruptly,  rending  the  curtain  of  oblivion,  and  striding  to 
the  front  of  the  stage  for  a  moment,  and  then  they  dis- 
appear, swallowed  up  of  night.  It  has  no  care  to  tell  the 
stories  of  any  of  its  heroes,  except  for  so  long  as  they  were 
the  organs  of  that  Divine  breath,  which,  breathed  through 
the  weakest  reed,  makes  music.  The  self-revelation  of 
God,  not  the  acts  and  fortunes  of  even  His  noblest  servants, 
is  the  theme  of  the  Book.  It  is  full  of  gaps  about  matters 
that  any  sciolist  or  philosopher  or  theologian  would  have 
filled  up  for  it.  There  it  stands,  a  Book  unique  in  the 
world's  history,  unique  in  what  it  says,  and  no  less  unique 
In  what  it  does  not  say. 


THB  SILENOB  OF  SORIPTURB.  135 

••Many  other  things  truly  did"  that  Divine  Spirit  in  its 
inarch  through  the  ages,  •*  which  are  not  written  in  this 
book  ;  but  these  are  written  that  ye  might  believe." 

II. — And  80  that  brings  me  next  to  say  a  word  or  two 
about  the  more  immediate  purpose  which  explains  all 
these  gaps  and  incompletenesses. 

John*s  Gospel,  and  the  other  three  Gospels,  and  the 
whole  Bible,  New  Testament  and  Old,  have  this  for  their 
purpose,  to  produce  in  men*s  hearts  the  faith  in  Jesus  as 
the  Christ  and  as  the  Son  of  God- 

I  need  not  speak  at  length  about  this  one  Gospel  with 
any  special  regard  to  that  thought.  I  have  already  said  that 
the  Evangelist  avows  that  his  work  is  a  selection,  that 
he  declares  that  the  purpose  that  determined  his  selection 
was  doctrinal,  and  that  he  picked  out  facts  which  would 
tend  to  represent  Jesus  Christ  to  us  in  the  twofold  capa- 
city,— as  the  Christ,  the  Fulfiller  of  all  the  expectations 
and  promises  of  the  Old  Covenant,  and  as  the  Son  of  God. 
The  one  of  these  titles  is  a  name  of  office,  the  other  a  name 
of  nature  ;  the  one  declares  that  He  had  come  to  be,  and 
to  do,  all  to  which  types  and  prophecies  and  promises  had 
dimly  pointed,  and  the  other  declares  that  He  was  •*  the 
Eternal  Word,"  which  "  in  the  beginning  was  with  God 
and  was  God,"  and  was  manifest  here  upon  earth  to  ub. 

This  was  his  purpose,  and  this  representation  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  that  which  shapes  all  the  facts  and  all  the  phe- 
nomena of  this  Gospel,  from  the  very  first  words  of  it  to 
its  close. 

And  so,  although  it  is  wide  from  my  present  subject,  I 
may  just  make  one  parenthetical  remark,  to  the  effect  that 
it  is  ridiculous  in  the  face  of  this  statement  for  "critics" 
to  say,  as  some  of  them  do  :  "  The  author  of  the  fourth 
Gospel  has  not  told  us  this,  that,  and  the  other  incident  in 
Christ's  life,  therefore,  he  did  not  know  it."  Then  some 
of  them  will  draw  the  conclusion  that  John's  Gospel  ia  not 


136  THB  SILBNOB  OF  80BIPTURB. 

to  be  trnsted  in  the  given  case,  becanse  he  doef  not  g^Tt 
HB  a  certain  incident,  and  others  might  draw  the  concla- 
sion  that  the  other  three  Evangelists  are  not  to  be  trusted 
because  they  do  give  it  ns.  And  the  whole  fabric  is  bnilt 
up  upon  a  blunder,  and  would  have  been  avoided  if  people 
had  listened  when  he  said  to  them  :-^"  I  knew  a  great 
many  things  about  Jesus  Christ,  but  I  did  not  put  them 
down  here  because  I  was  not  writing  a  biography,  but 
preaching  a  gospel ;  and  what  I  wanted  to  proclaim  waa 
that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God." 

But  now  we  may  extend  that  a  great  deal  further.  It  it 
just  as  true  about  the  whole  New  Testament.  The  four 
Gospels  are  written  to  tell  us  these  two  facts  about  Christ. 
They  are  none  of  them  merely  biographies  ;  as  such  they 
are  singularly  deficient,  as  we  have  seen.  But  they  are 
biographies  plus  a  doctrine;  and  the  biography  is  told 
mainly  for  the  sake  of  carrying  this  twofold  truth  into 
men*B  understandings  and  hearts,  that  Jesus  is,  first  of  all, 
the  Christ,  and  second,  the  Son  of  God. 

And  then  comes  the  rest  of  the  New  Testament,  which 
is  nothing  more  than  the  working  out  of  the  theoretical 
and  practical  consequence  of  these  great  truths.  All  the 
Epistles,  the  Book  of  Revelation,  and  the  history  of  the 
Church,  as  embodied  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles, — all 
these  are  but  the  consequences  of  that  fundamental  truth  : 
and  the  whole  of  Scripture  in  its  later  portions  is  but  the 
drawing  of  the  inferences  and  the  presenting  of  the  dutiei 
that  flow  from  these  facts  that  **  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the 
Son  of  God." 

And  what  about  Jhe  Old  Testament  ?  Why,  this  about 
it :  that  whatever  may  be  the  conclusion  as  to  the  date 
and  authorship  of  any  of  the  books  in  it, — and  I  am  not 
careful  to  contend  about  that  at  present ;— and  whsvtevei 
a  man  may  believe  about  the  verbal  prophecies  which  most 
of  us  recognise  there, — ^there  is  stamped  unmistakably 


THB  SILBNOB  OF  SOaXPTUBI.  137 

upon  the  whole  system,  of  which  the  Old  Testament  is 
the  record,  an  onward-looking  attitude.  It  is  all  antici- 
patory of  **  good  things  to  come,"  and  of  a  person  who 
will  bring  them.  Sacrifice,  sacred  offices,  snch  as  priesthood 
and  kingship,  and  the  whole  history  of  Israel,  have  their 
faces  turned  to  the  future.  "  They  that  went  before,  and 
they  that  followed  after,  cried  *  Hosanna  I  Blessed  be  He 
that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.'"  That  Christ 
towers  up  above  the  history  of  the  world  and  the  process 
of  revelation,  like  Mount  Everest  among  the  Himalayas. 
To  that  great  peak  all  the  country  on  the  one  side  runs 
upwards,  and  from  it  all  the  valleys  on  the  other  descend ; 
and  the  springs  are  bom  there  which  carry  verdure  and 
life  over  the  world. 

Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  is  the  centre  of  Scripture ;  and 
the  Book— whatever  be  the  historical  facts  about  its 
origin,  its  authorship,  and  the  date  of  the  several  portions 
of  which  it  is  composed — the  Book  is  a  unity,  because 
there  is  driven  right  through  it,  like  a  «ore  of  gold,  either 
in  the  way  of  prophecy  and  onward -looking  anticipation, 
or  in  the  way  of  history  and  grateful  retrospect,  the  refer- 
ence to  the  one  "  Name  that  is  above  every  name,"  the 
name  of  the  Christ  the  Son  of  Qod. 

And  all  its  incompleteness,  its  fragmentarineBi,  its 
larelessness  about  persons,  are  intended,  as  are  the  slight 
parts  in  a  skilful  artist's  handiwork,  to  emphasise  the 
beauty  and  the  sovereignty  of  that  one  central  figure  on 
which  all  lights  are  concentrated,  and  on  which  the  painter 
has  lavished  all  the  resources  of  his  art.  So  God — for 
God  is  the  Author  of  the  Bible — on  this  g^^at  canvas  has 
painted  much  in  sketchy  outline,  and  left  much  unfilled 
In,  that  every  eye  may  be  fixed  on  the  central  Figure,  the 
Christ  of  God,  on  Whose  head  comes  down  the  dove, 
and  round  Whom  echoes  the  Divine  declaration :  **  This 
ui  My  Beloved  Son,  in  Whom  I  am  well  pleaitd." 


138  THB  BILBNCB  OF  SOBIPTUBH. 

Bnt  it  is  not  merely  in  order  to  represent  Jeens  as  tbe 
Christ  of  God  that  these  things  are  written,  bnt  it  is  that 
that  representation  may  become  the  object  of  onr  faith. 
If  the  intention  of  Scripture  had  been  simply  to  establish 
the  fact  that  Jesns  was  the  Christ  and  the  Son  of  God,  it 
might  have  been  done  in  a  very  different  fashion.  A 
theological  treatise  would  have  been  enough  to  do  that. 
But,  if  the  object  be  that  men  should  not  only  accept 
with  their  understandings  the  truth  concerning  Christ's 
of&ce  and  nature,  but  that  their  hearts  should  go 
ont  to  Him,  and  that  they  should  rest  their  sinful  souls 
npon  Him  as  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Christ,  then  there 
is  no  other  way  to  accomplish  that,  but  by  the  history  of 
His  life  and  the  manifestation  of  His  heart.  If  the 
object  were  simply  to  make  us  know  about  Christ,  we  do 
not  need  a  Book  like  this  ;  but  if  the  object  is  to  lead  us 
to  put  our  faith  in  Him,  then  we  must  have  what  we 
have  here,  the  infinitely  touching  and  tender  figure  of 
Jesus  Christ  Himself,  set  before  us  in  all  its  sweetness  and 
beauty  as  He  lived  and  moved  and  died  for  us. 

And  so,  dear  friends,  let  me  put  one  last  word  here 
about  this  part  of  my  subject  If  this  be  the  purpose  of 
Scripture,  then  let  us  learn  on  the  one  hand  the  wretched 
insufficiency  of  a  mere  orthodox  creed,  and  let  us  learn 
on  the  other  hand  the  equal  insufficiency  of  a  mere 
creedless  emotion. 

If  the  purpose  of  Scripture,  in  these  Gospels,  and  all 
its  parts,  is  that  we  should  believe  **that  Jesus  is  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,**  that  purpose  is  not  accomplished 
when  we  simply  yield  our  understanding  to  that  truth 
and  accept  it  as  a  great  many  people  do.  That  was  much 
more  the  fault  of  ihe  last  generation  than  of  this,  though 
many  of  us  may  still  make  the  mistake  of  supposing  that 
we  are  Christians  because  we  idly  assent  to— or,  at  least, 
do  not  deny,  and  so  fancy  that  we  accept — Christian 


THB  BILBNOH  OF  SORIPTUBB.  189 

truth.  But,  as  Lnther  says  in  one  of  Mb  rough  flgnres, 
"  Hnman  natnre  is  like  a  drunken  peasant ;  if  you  put 
him  up  on  the  horse  on  the  one  side,  he  is  sure  to  tumble 
down  on  th  e  other."  And  so  the  reaction  from  the  heart- 
less, unpractical  orthodoxy  of  half  a  century  ago  has  come 
with  a  vengean  ce  to-day,  when  everybody  is  saying,  "  Oh  I 
give  me  a  Christianity  without  dogma!"  Well,  I  say  that 
too,  about  a  great  many  of  the  metaphysical  subtleties 
which  have  been  called  Doctrinal  Christianity.  But  this 
doctrine  of  the  nature  and  office  of  Jesus  Christ  cannot 
be  given  up,  and  the  Christianity  which  Christ  and  His 
Apostles  taught  retained.  Do  you  believe  that  Jesus  is 
the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God  ?  Do  you  trust  your  soul  to 
Him  in  these  characters  ?  If  you  do,  I  think  we  can 
shake  hands.  If  you  do  not.  Scripture  has  failed  to  do  its 
work  on  you,  and  you  have  not  reached  the  point  which 
all  God*B  lavish  revelation  has  been  expended  on  the 
world  that  you  and  all  men  might  attain. 

III. — Now,  lastly,  notice  the  ultimate  purpose  of  the 
whole. 

Scripture  is  not  given  to  us  merely  to  make  ns  know 
something  about  God  in  Christ,  nor  only  in  order  that  we 
may  have  faith  in  the  Christ  thus  revealed  to  us,  but  for  a 
further  end — great,  glorious,  but,  blessed  be  His  Name  I 
not  distant — namely,  that  we  may  "have  life  in  His  name." 
"Life  is  deep,  mystical,  inexplicable  by  any  other  words 
than  itself.  It  includes  pardon,  holiness,  well-being,  im- 
mortality. Heaven  ;  but  it  is  more  than  they  all. 

This  life  comes  into  our  dead  hearts  and  quickens  them 
by  union  with  God.  That  which  is  joined  to  God  lives. 
Each  being  according  to  its  nature,  is,  on  condition  of  the 
Divine  power  acting  upon  it.  This  bit  of  wood  upon 
which  I  put  my  hand,  and  the  hand  which  I  put  upon  it, 
would  equally  crumble  into  nothingness  if  they  were 
separated  from  Gk>d. 


140  THB  SILBNOB  OV  SORIPTUBB. 

YoQ  oan  separate  yonr  wills  and  your  spiiitaal  natoM 
fram  Him,  and  thus  separated  yon  are  '*dead  In  trespasses 
and  in  sins.^  And,  oh !  brother,  the  message  comes  to 
you :  there  is  life  in  that  great  Christ,  **  in  His  name**  i 
that  is  to  say,  in  that  revealed  character  of  His  by  which 
He  is  made  known  to  ns  as  the  Christ  and  the  Son  of  €k>d. 

Union  with  Him  in  His  Sonship,  will  bring  life  into 
dead  hearts  He  is  the  true  Prometheus  who  has  come 
from  Heaven  with  fire,  the  fire  of  the  Divine  Life  in  the 
reed  of  Hip  humanity,  and  He  imparts  it  to  ns  all  if  wo 
will.  He  lays  Himself  upon  us,  as  the  prophet  laid  him- 
self on  the  little  child  in  the  upper  chamber ;  and  lip  to 
lip,  and  beating  heart  to  dead  heart.  He  touches  our  death, 
and  it  is  quickened  into  life. 

The  condition  on  which  that  great  Name  will  bring 
(o  ns  life  is  simply  our  faith.  Do  you  believe  in  Him, 
and  trust  yourself  to  Him,  as  He  who  came  to  fulfil  all 
that  prophet,  priest,  and  king,  sacrifice,  altar,  and  temple 
of  old  times  prophesied  and  looked  for  ?  Do  you  trust  In 
Him  as  the  Son  of  God  Who  comes  down  to  earth  that  wo 
in  Him  might  find  the  immortal  life  which  He  is  ready  to 
give  t  If  you  do,  then,  dear  brethren,  the  end  that  God 
has  in  view  in  all  His  revelation,  that  Christ  had  in  view 
in  His  bitter  Passion,  has  been  accomplished  for  you.  If 
yon  do  not  it  has  not.  You  may  admire  Him,  you  may 
think  loftily  of  Him,  you  may  be  ready  to  call  Him  by 
many  great  and  appreciative  names,  but  oh  I  unless  you 
have  learned  to  see  in  Him  the  Divine  Saviour  of  ycvir 
souls,  you  have  not  seen  what  God  means  yon  to  see. 

But  if  you  have,  then  all  other  questions  about  this 
Book,  important  as  they  are  in  their  places,  may  settle 
themselves  as  they  will ;  you  have  got  the  kernel,  the 
thing  that  it  was  meant  to  bring  you.  Many  an  erudite 
scholar,  who  has  studied  the  Bible  all  his  life,  has  missed 
the  purpose  for  which  it  was  given  ;  and  many  m  poor  oM 


THB  8ILBN0B  OF   SORIPTURB.  141 

woman  in  her  garret  has  found  it.  It  is  not  meant  to 
wrangle  over,  it  is  not  meant  to  be  read  as  an  interesting 
prodnct  of  the  religions  consciousness,  it  is  not  to  be 
admired  as  all  that  remains  of  the  literature  of  a  nation  that 
had  a  genius  for  religion  ;  but  it  is  to  be  taken  as  being 
God's  great  Word  to  the  world,  the  record  of  the  revelation 
that  He  has  given  ns  in  His  Son.  The  Eternal  Word  is  the 
theme  of  all  the  written  Word.  Have  you  made  the  jewel 
which  is  brought  us  in  that  casket  your  own  ?  Is  Jesus 
to  you  the  Son  of  the  living  God,  believing  on  Whom  you 
share  His  life,  and  become  sons  of  God  by  Him  ?  Can 
you  take  on  to  your  thankful  lips  that  triumphant  and 
rapturous  confession  of  the  doubting  Thomas — the  flag 
flying  on  the  completed  roof -tree  of  this  Gospel — "  My  Lord 
and  my  God"  f  If  you  can  you  will  receive  the  blessing 
which  Christ  then  promised  to  all  of  us  standing  beyond 
the  limits  of  that  little  group,  **  who  have  not  seen  and 
yet  have  believed" — even  that  eternal  life  which  flows 
into  our  dead  spirits  from  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God-  Who 
is  the  Light  of  the  world,  and  the  Life  of  men. 


ITTAI  OF  GATE. 


BERMON  XEL 


ITTAI    or    OATH. 

*ABd  ItUi  wifwered  the  king,  and  said  :  Ai  the  Lord  liTeth,  and  aimy  lorttlM  klBg 
Wfwth,  rarely  in  what  place  my  lord  the  king  ihaU  be,  whether  in  death  or  Uto,  wrm 
there  alao  wiU  thy  aerrant  be."— 3  Sam.  zt.  sl 

It  was  the  darkest  hour  in  David's  life.  No  more 
pathetic  page  is  found  in  the  Old  Testament  than  that 
which  tells  the  story  of  his  flight  before  Absalom.  He 
is  emshed  by  the  consciousness  that  his  punishment  is 
deserved—the  bitter  fruit  of  the  sin  that  filled  all  his 
later  life  with  darkness.  His  courage  and  his  buoyancy 
have  left  him.  He  has  no  spirit  to  make  a  stand  or 
strike  a  blow.  If  Shimei  runs  along  the  hillside  abreast 
of  him,  shrieking  curses  as  he  goes,  all  he  says  is  :  **  Let 
him  curse  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  bidden  him." 

So,  heartbroken  and  spiritless,  he  leaves  Jerusalem. 
And  as  soon  as  he  has  got  clear  of  the  city  he  calls  a  halt, 
in  order  that  he  may  muster  his  followers  and  see  on 
whom  he  may  depend.  Foremost  among  the  liUie  band 
eome  six  hundred  men  from  Gath — Philistines — from 
Goliath's  city.  These  men,  singularly  enough,  the  king 
had  chosen  as  his  body-guard ;  perhaps  he  was  Bit  al- 
together sure  of  the  loyalty  of  his  own  svbjeote,  and 
poMibly  felt  safer  with  foreign  mercenaries  irho 

h 


146  ITTAI  OF  OATH. 

have  no  secret  leaningB  to  the  deposed  honse  of  Said.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  the  narrative  tells  ns  that  these  men  had 
**  come  after  him  from  Gath."  He  had  been  there  twice 
in  the  old  days,  in  his  flight  from  Saul,  and  the  second 
visit  had  extended  over  something  more  than  a  year. 
Probably  dm*ing  that  period  his  personal  attraction,  and 
his  reputation  as  a  brilliant  leader,  had  led  these  rough 
soldiers  to  attach  themselves  to  his  service,  and  to  be  ready 
to  forsake  home  and  kindred  in  order  to  fight  beside  him. 

At  all  events  here  they  are,  **  faithful  among  the  faith- 
less" as  foreign  soldiers  surrounding  a  king  often  are ; 
— notably,  for  instance,  the  Swiss  guard  in  the  French 
Revolution.  Their  strong  arms  might  have  been  of  great 
use  to  David,  but  his  generosity  cannot  think  of  in- 
volving them  in  his  fall,  and  so  he  says  to  them  ;  "  I  am 
not  going  to  fight ;  I  have  no  plan.  I  am  going  where  I 
can.  You  go  back  and  'worship  the  rising  sun.'  Ab- 
salom will  take  you  and  be  glad  of  your  help.  And  as 
for  me,  I  thank  you  for  your  past  loyalty.  Mercy  and 
peace  be  with  you  I" 

It  is  a  beautiful  nature  that  in  the  depth  of  sorrow 
ihrinks  from  dragging  other  people  down  with  itself. 
Generosity  breeds  generosity,  and  this  Philistine  captain 
breaks  out  into  a  burst  of  passionate  devotion,  gar- 
nished, in  soldier-fashion,  with  an  unnecessary  oath  or  two, 
but  ringing  very  sincere  and  meaning  a  great  deal.  As 
for  himself  and  his  men,  they  have  chosen  their  side. 
Whoever  goes,  they  stay.  Whatever  befalls,  they  stick 
by  David  ;  and  if  the  worst  come  to  the  worst  they  can  all 
die  together,  and  their  corpses  lie  in  firm  ranks  round 
about  their  dead  king.  David's  heart  is  touched  and 
warmed  by  their  outspoken  loyalty  ;  he  yields  and  accepts 
their  service.  Ittai  and  his  noble  six  hundred  tramp  on, 
out  of  our  sight,  and  all  their  households  behind  them. 
Now  what  in  there,  in  all  that,  to  mako  a  lermon  out  of  ? 


FTTAI  OF  OATH.  147 

I. — First,  look  at  the  picture  of  that  Philistine  soldier,  as 
teaching  ns  what  grand  passionate  self-sacrifice  may  be 
evolved  out  of  the  roughest  natures. 

Analyse  his  words,  and  do  you  not  hear,  ringing  in 
them,  these  three  things,  which  are  the  seed  of  all  nobility 
and  splendour  in  human  character  ?  First,  a  passionate 
personal  attachment ;  then,  that  love,  issuing  as  such  love 
always  does,  in  willing  sacrifice  that  recks  not  for  a 
moment  of  personal  consequences  ;  that  is  ready  to  accept 
anything  for  itself  if  it  can  serve  the  object  of  its  devo- 
tion, and  will  count  life  well  expended  if  it  is  flung  away 
in  such  a  service.  And  we  see,  lastly,  in  these  words  a 
supreme  restful  delight  in  the  presence  of  him  whom  the 
heart  loves.  For  Ittai  and  his  men,  the  one  thing  needful 
was  to  be  beside  him  in  whose  eye  they  had  lived,  from 
whose  presence  they  had  caught  inspiration  ;  their  trusted 
leader,  before  whom  their  souls  bowed  down.  So  then 
his  vehement  speech  is  the  pure  language  of  love. 

Now  these  three  things, — a  passionate  personal  attach- 
ment, issuing  in  spontaneous  heroism  of  self-abandon- 
ment, and  in  supreme  satisfaction  in  the  beloved  presence^ 
—may  spring  up  in  the  rudest,  roughest  nature.  A  Philia- 
tine  soldier  was  not  a  very  likely  man  in  whom  to  find 
refined  and  lofty  emotion.  He  was  hard  by  nature, 
hardened  by  his  rough  trade ;  and  unconscious  that  he 
was  doing  anything  at  all  heroic  or  great.  Something  had 
smitten  this  rock,  and  out  of  it  there  came  the  pure  re- 
freshing stream.  And  so  I  say  to  you,  the  weakest  and 
<he  lowest,  the  roughest  and  the  hardest,  the  most  selfishly 
absorbed  man  and  woman  among  us,  has  lying  in  him 
and  her,  dormant  capacities  for  flaming  up  into  such  a 
splendour  of  devotion  and  magnificence  of  heroic  self- 
sacrifice  as  is  represented  in  these  words  of  my  text.  A 
mother  will  do  it  for  her  child,  and  never  think  that  she 
has  done  anything  «xtraordinary  ;  husbands  will  do  such 

L2 


148  ITTAI  OF  QATR. 

things  for  wiyei ;  wiyea  for  hnsbandi ;  iriendi  a&d  loT«n 

t&c  one  another.  All  who  know  the  iweetnesf  and  power 
of  the  bond  of  affection  know  that  there  is  nothing  more 
gladsome  than  to  fling  one*8  self  away  for  the  sake  of  Ihoee 
whom  we  leve.  And  the  capacity  for  sneh  lo^re  and 
sacrifice  lies  in  all  of  lis  ;  proaaio,  commonplace  people  ai 
we  are,  with  ne  great  field  on  which  to  work  exit  mue 
heroisms  ;  yet  it  is  in  u  to  loTe  and  fire  •unelTet  ftiraj 
thus  if  onoe  the  heart  be  stirred. 

And  lastly,  this  capacity  which  list  dormant  in  idl  of 
ns,  if  once  it  is  roused  to  action  will  make  a  man  blessed 
and  dignified  as  nothing  else  wiU.  The  joy  of  unselfish 
loTO  is  the  purest  joy  that  man  can  taate  ;  the  joy  of  per- 
fect self-sacrifice  is  the  highest  joy  that  humanity  can 
possess,  and  they  lie  open  for  us  all. 

And  wherever,  in  some  humble  measnre,  these  emotions 
of  which  I  have  been  speaking  are  realised,  there  you  get 
weakness  springing  up  into  strength,  and  the  ignoble  into 
loftiness.  Astronomers  tell  us  that,  sometimes,  a  star 
that  has  shone  inconspicuous,  and  stood  low  down  in 
their  catalogues  as  of  fifth  or  sixth  magnitude,  will  all  at 
once  fiame  out,  having  kindled  and  caught  fire  somehow, 
and  will  blaze  in  the  heavens,  outshining  Jupiter  and 
Venus.  And  so  some  poor,  vulgar,  narrow  nature, 
touched  by  this  Promethean  fire  of  pure  love  that  leads  to 
perfect  sacrifice,  will  "fiame  in  the  forehead  of  the 
morning  sky,**  an  undying  splendour,  and  a  light  for 
ever  more. 

Brethren  !  My  appeal  to  you  is  a  very  plain  and  simple 
one,  founded  on  these  facts  : — You  have  all  that  capacity 
in  you,  and  you  are  all  responible  for  the  use  of  it. 
What  have  you  done  with  it  ?  Is  there  any  person  or 
thing  in  this  world  that  has  ever  been  able  to  lift  you  up 
out  of  your  miserable  selves  ?  Is  there  any  magnet  that 
proved  strong  enough  to  raise  you  from  the  low  levelf 


ITTAI  OF  OATH.  14f 

alMif  whUk  jmu  lif«  ertept  F  Hare  yoa  tT«r  known  tk« 
thrill  tf  FMolying  U  become  the  bondeervant  and  the 
slave  of  eome  great  eange  not  your  own  ?  Or  are  yon,  ae 
w  many  el  yon  are,  like  ipiders  living  in  the  midst  of 
yowr  web,  mainly  intent  npon  what  yon  can  catch  in  it  ? 
To«  have  these  capacities  slumbering  in  you.  Have  yon 
ever  set  a  light  te  that  inmrt  mass  of  enthusiasm  that  lies 
ki  yon  ?  Have  jvm  erer  woke  np  the  sleeper  ?  Look  at 
thii  longh  soldier  •#  my  text,  and  learn  from  him  the 
Vmmm  that  there  is  Bathing  that  se  ennobles  and  dignifiei 
a  oommonplace  nature  as  enthusiasm  for  a  great  cause,  or 
Mtf-«acrificing  love  for  a  worthy  heart 

IL — The  second  remaric  which  I  make  is  this  : — These 
possibilities  of  love  and  sacrifice  point  plainly  to  Qod  In 
Ohrift  m  their  trae  object.  "Whose  image  and  snper- 
ieriptioA  hatk  it  7**  said  Christ,  looking  at  the  Roman 
4#fiarMM  that  they  brought  and  laid  en  His  palm.  If  the 
Kmper«r*s  head  is  on  it,  why,  then,  h$  has  a  right  to  It  as 
tribnte.  And  then  He  went  on  to  say,  ^  Render,  there- 
fore, mMo  C«6ar  the  things  which  are  CsBsar*s,  and  unto 
Ood  the  ^ings  that  are  God's.*'  So  there  are  things  that 
have  God*s  image  and  superscription  stamped  en  them,  and 
vach  are  our  hearts,  our  whole  constitution  and  nature.  As 
plainly  as  the  penny  had  the  head  of  Augustus  on  it,  and 
therefore  proclaimed  that  he  was  Emperor  where  it  was 
oonpent,  so  plainly  does  every  soul  carry  in  the  image  of 
Ood,  the  witness  that  He  is  its  owner  and  that  it  should  be 
rendered  in  tribute  to  Him. 

And  amongst  all  thes«  marks  of  a  Divine  possession  and 
a  Divine  destination  printed  upon  human  nature,  it  seems 
to  me  that  none  are  plainer  than  this  fact,  that  we  can  all 
of  ns  thus  give  ourselves  away  in  the  abandonment  of  a 
profound  and  all  snrrendering-love.  That  capacity  un- 
mistakably proclaims  that  it  is  destined  to  be  directed 
towards  Qod  and  to  find  its  rest  in  Him.    As  distinctly  as 


150  ITTAI  OF  GATE. 

some  silver  cnp,  with  its  owner's  initials  and  arms  engraved 
upon  it,  declares  itself  to  be  "  meet  for  the  master's  use," 
BO  distinctly  does  your  soul,  by  reason  of  this  capacity, 
proclaim  that  it  is  meant  to  be  turned  to  Him  in  Whom 
alone  all  love  can  find  its  perfect  satisfaction  ;  for  Whom 
alone  it  is  supremely  blessed  and  great  to  shed  life  itself : 
and  Who  only  has  the  authority  over  our  human  spirits. 

We  are  made  with  hearts  that  need  to  rest  upon  an  ab- 
solute love  ;  we  are  made  with  understandings  that  need 
to  grasp  a  pure,  a  perfect,  and,  as  I  believe,  paradoxical 
though  it  may  sound,  a  personal  Truth.  We  are  made 
with  wills  that  crave  for  an  absolute  authoritative  com- 
mand, and  we  are  made  with  a  moral  nature  that  needs 
a  perfect  holiness.  And  we  need  all  that  love,  truth, 
authority,  purity,  to  be  gathered  into  one,  for  the  misery 
of  the  world  is  that  when  we  set  out  to  look  for 
treasures  we  have  to  go  into  many  lands  and  to  many 
merchants  to  buy  many  goodly  pearls.  But  we  need  One 
of  great  price,  in  which  all  our  wealUi  may  be  invested. 
We  need  that  One  to  be  an  undying  and  perpetual 
possession.  There  is  One  to  Whom  our  love  can  ever 
cleave,  and  fear  none  of  the  sorrows  or  imperfections  that 
make  earthward-turned  love  a  rose  with  many  a  thorn, 
One  for  Whom  it  is  pure  gain  to  lose  ourselves,  One  Who 
is  plainly  the  only  worthy  recipient  of  the  whole  love  and 
self-surrender  of  the  heart. 

That  One  is  God,  revealed  and  brought  near  to  110  in 
Jesus  Christ.  In  that  great  Saviour  we  have  a  love  at 
once  Divine  and  human,  we  have  the  great  transcendent 
instance  of  love  leading  to  sacrifice.  On  that  love  and 
sacrifice  for  us  Christ  builds  His  claim  on  us  for  our 
hearts,  and  our  all.  Life  alone  can  communicate  life  ;  it 
is  only  light  that  can  diffuse  light.  It  is  only  love  that 
can  kindle  love  ;  it  is  only  sacrifice  that  can  inspire  Baeri- 
fice.    And  so  He  comes  to  us,  and  asks  that  we  ahould 


ITTAI  OF  GATH.  151 

jolt  loTe  Him  back  again  as  He  has  loved  ns.  He  finrt 
gives  Himself  utterly  for  and  to  us,  and  then  asks  us  to 
give  ourselves  wholly  to  Him.  He  first  yields  up  His 
own  life,  and  then  He  says  :  "  He  that  loseth  his  life  for 
my  sake  shall  find  it."  The  object,  the  true  object  for 
all  this  depth  of  love  which  lies  slumbering  in  our  hearts, 
is  God  in  Christ,  the  Christ  that  died  for  us. 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  observe  that  the  terrible  mis- 
direction of  these  capacities  is  the  sin  and  the  misery  of 
the  world. 

I  will  not  say  that  such  emotions,  even  when  expended 
on  creatures,  are  ever  wasted.  For  however  unworthy  may 
be  the  objects  on  which  they  are  lavished,  the  man  him- 
self if  the  better  and  the  higher  for  having  cherished 
them.  The  mother,  when  she  forgets  self  in  her  child, 
though  her  love  and  self-forgetfulness  and  self-sacrifice 
may,  in  some  respects,  be  called  but  an  animal  instinct,  is 
elevated  and  ennobled  by  the  exercise  of  them.  The 
patriot  and  the  thinker,  the  philanthropist,  ay  I  even — 
although  I  take  him  to  be  the  lowest  of  the  scale — the  sol- 
dier who,  in  some  cause  which  he  thinks  to  be  a  good  one» 
and  not  merely  in  the  tigerish  madness  of  the  battlefield, 
throws  away  his  life — are  lifted  in  the  scale  of  being  by 
their  self-abnegation. 

And  BO  I  am  not  going  to  say  that  when  men  love  each 
other  passionately  and  deeply,  and  sacrifice  themselves 
for  one  another,  or  for  some  cause  or  purpose  affecting 
only  temporal  matters,  the  precious  elixir  of  love  is  wasted, 
God  forbid  I  But  I  do  say  that  all  these  objects,  sweet 
and  gracious  as  some  of  them  are,  ennobling  and  elevating 
as  some  of  them  are,  if  they  are  taken  apart  from  God, 
are  insufficient  to  fill  your  hearts :  and  that  if  they  are 
slipped  in  between  you  and  God,  as  they  often  are,  then 
they  birng  sin  and  sorrow. 

There  is  nothing  more  tragic  in  this  world  than  the 


152  ITTAI  OF  QATH. 

misdirection  ol  man's  capacity  for  lore  and  sacrifloo. 
It  is  like  the  old  story  in  the  Book  of  Daniel,  which  tells 
how  the  heathen  monarch  made  a  great  feast,  and  when 
the  wine  began  to  inflame  the  guests,  sent  for  the  sacred 
vessels  taken  from  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem,  that  had 
been  used  for  Jehovah's  worship  ;  and  (as  the  narrative 
says,  with  a  kind  of  shudder  at  the  profanation),  "  They 
brought  the  golden  vessels  that  were  taken  out  of  the 
temple  of  the  House  of  God,  which  was  at  Jerusalem, 
and  the  king  and  his  princes,  his  wives  and  his  concu- 
bines, drank  in  them.  They  drank  wine  and  praised  the 
gods."  So  this  heart  of  mine,  which,  as  I  said,  has  the 
Master's  initials  and  His  arms  engraven  upon  it,  in  token 
that  it  is  His  cup,  I  too  often  fill  with  the  poisonous  and 
intoxicating  draught  of  earthly  pleasure  and  earthly 
affections ;  and  as  I  drink  it,  the  madness  goes  through 
my  veins,  and  I  praise  gods  of  my  own  making  instead  of 
Him  Whom  alone  I  ought  to  love. 

Ah !  brethren,  we  should  be  our  own  reliukes  in  this 
matter,  and  the  heroism  of  the  world  should  put  to  shame 
the  cowardice  and  the  selfishness  of  the  Church.  Con- 
trast the  depth  of  your  affection  for  your  household  with 
the  tepidity  of  your  love  for  your  Saviour.  Contrast  the 
willingness  with  which  you  sacrifice  yourself  for  some 
dear  one  with  the  grudgingness  with  which  you  yield 
yourselves  to  Him.  Contrast  the  rest  and  the  sense  of 
satisfaction  in  the  presence  of  those  you  love,  and  youp 
desolation  when  they  are  absent,  with  the  indifference 
whether  you  have  Christ  beside  you  or  not  And 
remember  that  the  measure  of  your  power  of  loving  is 
the  measure  of  your  obligation  to  love  your  Lord  ;  and 
that  if  you  are  all  frost  to  Him  and  all  fervour  to  them, 
then  in  a  very  solemn  sense  "  a  man's  foes  shall  be  they 
of  his  own  househol(J."  "  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother 
more  than  Me  is  not  worthy  of  Me  I  " 


ITTAI  OF  OATH.  1:^3 

And  fo  let  ma  gather  all  that  I  haye  been  saying  into 
the  one  earnest  beseeching  of  yon  that  you  would  bring 
that  power  of  uncalculating  loye  and  self-sacrificing 
affection  which  is  in  you,  and  would  fasten  it  where  it 
ought  to  fix— on  Christ  who  died  on  the  cross  for  you. 
Such  a  loTe  will  bring  bleBsednees  t«  you.  Such  a  love 
will  ennoble  and  dignify  yonr  whole  nature,  and  make  you 
a  far  greater  and  fairer  man  or  woman  than  you  otherwise 
ever  could  be.  Like  lome  litUo  bit  of  black  carbon  put 
into  an  electric  current,  my  poor  nature  will  flame  into 
beauty  and  radiance  when  that  tp«rk  touches  it.  So  love 
Him  and  be  at  peace ;  giTO  yonzMlyes  to  Him  and  He  will 
giye  you  back  yonrselyet,  onnobled  and  transfigured  by 
the  surrender.  Lay  yonrMlyet  on  His  altar,  and  that  altar 
will  sanctify  both  the  giyor  and  the  gift  If  yon  can 
take  this  rough  Philistino  soldier's  words  in  their  spirit, 
and  in  a  higher  sense,  say,  **  Whether  I  liye  I  Uye  nnio 
the  Lord,  or  whether  I  die  I  die  unto  the  Lord ;  liylng 
or  dying,  I  am  the  Lord's,**  He  will  let  you  enlist  in  His 
army  ;  and  give  you  for  your  marching  orders  this  com- 
mand and  this  hope,  **If  any  man  serve  Me  let  him 
follow  Me ;  and  whM«  I  am  there  shall  also  My  itnnnl 
b^i.** 


TWO   BUILDERS   ON   ONE  FOUNDATION. 


SERMON  Xm. 


two  BXnLDBBB  ON  ONE  FOUNDATION. 

'If  any  man'i  work  abldt  whleb  he  htAh  bnilt  thereapon,  he  ihall  reoelT*  •  nward 
If  any  man's  work  ihall  be  burned,  he  ahall  auffor  loea  :  but  he  hlmaelf  ahall  bi 
saved  ;  yet  ao  aa  by  flxe.  »1  OoK.  ill.  14,  16. 

Thb  Yivid  imagination  of  the  Apostle  pnts  before  tu  here  a 
Tery  solemn  truth  in  a  picturesque  form.  Two  workmen 
are  building  side  by  side.  One  builds  a  palace,  the  other 
a  hovel.  The  materials  which  one  uses  are  gold  and  silver, 
for  decoration  ;  and  for  solidjty  costly  stones, — by  which 
is  not  meant  diamonds  and  emeralds  and  the  like,  but 
valuable  building  material,  such  as  marbles  and  granites 
and  alabaster.  The  other  employs  timber,  dry  reeds,  straw. 
No  doubt  in  Corinth,  as  in  all  ancient  cities,  side  by  side 
with  the  templeg  shining  in  marble  and  Corinthian  brasa, 
were  the  huts  of  the  poor  and  of  slaves  built  of  such 
flimsy  materials  as  these.  Suddenly  there  plays  around 
both  buildings  a  great  fire,  the  fire  of  the  Lord  coming  to 
judgment.  The  marbles  gleam  the  whiter,  and  the  gold 
and  the  silver  flash  the  more  resplendently,  whilst  the 
tongues  of  light  leap  about  them  ;  but  the  straw  hovel  goes 
np  in  a  flare  !  The  one  man  gets  wages  for  work  that 
lasts,  the  other  man  gets  no  pay  for  what  perishes.  He  ii 
dragged  through  the  smoke,  saved  by  a  hair*g  breadth, 


158  TWO  BUILDERS  ON   ONE  FOUNDATION. 

bnt  sees  all  his  toil  lying  there  in  white  ashes  at  his  feet. 
It  is  a  grim  picture.  Let  us  try  and  find  out  the  meaning 
of  it,  and  apply  it  to  ourselves. 

I. — First,  the  two  builders  and  their  work. 

The  original  application  of  these  words  is  distinctly  to 
Christian  teachers.  The  whole  section  starts  from  a 
rebuke  of  the  party  spirit  in  the  Corinthian  Church  which 
led  them  to  swear  by  Paul  or  Peter  or  ApoUos,  and  to 
despise  all  teachers  but  their  own  favourite.  The  Apostle 
reminds  these  jangling  partisans  that  all  teachers  were 
but  instruments  in  God's  hands,  Who  was  the  true  Worker, 
the  true  Husbandman,  the  true  Builder.  That  word  opens 
up  a  whole  region  of  thought  to  his  wdent  mind.  He 
goes  on  to  speak  of  the  foundation  which  God  has  laid, 
namely,  the  mission  of  Jesus  Christ.  That  foundation 
laid  once  for  all  in  actual  reality,  in  the  historical  facts  of 
our  Lord's  life,  death,  and  resurrection,  had  been  laid  in 
preaching  by  Paul  when  he  founded  the  Corinthian 
Church.  There  cannot  be  two  foundations.  So  all  other 
teachers  at  Corinth  have  only  to  build  on  that  foundation, 
that  is,  to  carry  on  a  course  of  Christian  teaching  which 
rests  upon  that  fundamental  truth.  Let  all  such  teachers 
take  heed  what  sort  of  materials  they  build  on  that 
foundation,  that  is  to  say,  what  sort  of  teaching  they 
offer,  for  there  may  be  gold,  and  silver,  and  precious 
itones — solid  and  valuable  instruction  ;  or  there  may  be 
timber,  and  hay,  and  straw — worthless  and  unsubstantial 
teaching.  The  materials  with  which  the  teachers  build 
are  evidently  the  instruction  which  they  give,  or  the  doc- 
trines which  they  teach. 

Hence  the  wood,  hay,  stubble  are  clearly  not  heresies, 
for  the  builder  who  uses  them  is  on  the  foundation  ;  and 
if  Paul  had  been  thinking  of  actual  heresies,  he  would 
have  found  sharper  words  of  condenmation  with  which  to 
•iigmatiBe  them  than  those  which  merely  designate  them 


TWO  BUILDBR8  ON  ONB  FOUNDATION.  159 

as  flimfiy  and  onsabBtantial.  But  what  is  meant  it  the 
anprofitable  teaching  which  good  men  may  present,  when 

*'Th«  koBgry  iheep  kwk  ap  and  an  not  fad.' 

While,  on  the  other,  the  "  gold  and  silver  and  precions 
stones*'  are  the  solid  and  permanent  and  sonl-satisfying 
truths  which  are  revealed  to  ns  in  Jesus  Christ. 

Now  it  is  no  part  of  my  business  to  condemn  this,  that, 
and  the  other  kind  of  teaching,  but  I  will  tell  you  what 
is  evidently  wood  and  hay  and  stubble.     Misplaced  learn- 
ing ;  misplaced  speculation  ;  misplaced  eloquence ;  sham 
philosophy  ;  preaching  one's  self ;  talking  about  temporary, 
trivial  things  ;  dealing  with  the  externals  of  Christianity, 
its  ceremonial  and  its  ritual ;  dealing  with  the  morals  of 
Christianity  apart  from  that  one  motive  of  love  to  a  dying 
Saviour  which  makes  morality  a  reality  in  human  life.  All 
that  kind  of  Christian  teaching,  remote  from  daily  life  and 
from  men*8  deepest  needs,  however  it  may  be  admired^ 
and  thought  to  be  "  eloquent,"  "  original,"  and  "  on  a  level 
with  the  growing  culture  of  the  age,**  and  so  on,  is  flimsy 
stuff  to  build  upon  the  foundation  of  a  crucified  Saviour. 
There  is  no  solidity  in  such  work.     It  will  not  stand  the 
stress  of  a  gale  of  wind  while  it  is  being  built,  nor  keep  out 
the  weather  for  those  who  house  in  it,  and  it  will  blaze  at 
last  like  a  thatched  roof  when  "that  day*'  puts  a  match  to 
it.   The  solid  teaching  is  the  proclamation  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  of  the  great  salvation  which  He  has  brought.    On 
that  rock-fact  we  calmly  repose.     In  that  great  truth  are 
wrapped  np,  as  the  plant  in  the  seed,  all  the  treasures  of 
wisdom  and   knowledge.      If  a   Christian  teacher  will 
cleave  to  his  Master,  and  ever  ponder  the  meaning  of  His 
life  and  person,  of  His  passion  and  glory,  he  will  find 
them  opening  out  into  depths  of  truth,  and  far-reaching 
laws  of  conduct  which  will  supply  him  with  lessons  of 
weight  and  worth,  that  will  outshine  all  the  glare  el 


160  TWO  BUILDERS  ON  ONB  TOUNDATIOK. 

tinsel  novelties,  and  outlast  the  brief  duration  wi  tlie  hay 
and  stubble. 

So,  let  all  of  us  who  are  preachers — whether  in  the 
conTentional  and  professional  sense,  or  in  the  wider  and 
truer  sense  in  which  every  Christian  should  be  a  preacher, 
or  who,  in  any  waj^,  hare  to  communicate  religioua 
instruction—take  the  warning,  that  good  men,  well- 
meaning  men,  wishing  to  do  good,  building  on  the 
foundation,  may,  if  they  do  not  take  care,  be  building 
with  rubbish  instead  of  with  the  immortal  and  indestmo* 
tible  truths  of  6od*s  Word  ;  and  let  me  beseech  yon,  as  I 
would  warn  and  exhort  myielf,  to  mo  to  it  thttt  we  do 
not  carry  chaff  in  our  teed-baskets,  but  only  the  win- 
nowed and  the  pure  seed  of  the  Word  of  God. 

But  the  principle  inTolred  in  this  may  very  well  be 
extended  to  the  whole  Christian  life.  The  life  of  a 
Christian  man  is  represented  in  Scripture,  in  many 
places,  under  the  metaphor  of  a  building  ;  suggesting  not 
only  the  idea  of  the  whole  life  as  resting  upon  Christ  as 
the  foundation,  but  also  suggesting  the  thought  of  slow, 
continuous  progress,  stone  by  stone,  layer  by  layer,  and 
in  addition  implying  that  the  result  is  a  homogeneous 
whole.  It  is  possible  for  two  men,  both  of  them  being 
Christians,  to  be  building  two  Tery  different  structures  in 
their  lives.  The  Apostle  takes  two  extreme  cases  for  the 
sake  of  illustrating  his  principle.  Just  as  a  mathematician 
takes  a  perfect  triangle  or  a  perfect  circle,  which  does  not 
exist  in  nature,  for  the  purpose  of  working  his  problems, 
80  the  Apostle  supposes  two  cases  which  cannot  exist  in 
fact — the  one  that  of  a  man  who  builds  with  nothing  but 
precious  materials,  and  the  other  that  of  a  man  who  bnildi 
with  nothing  but  trash. 

But  although  these  two  cases  cannot  exist  in  their  per- 
feet  form,  we  know  only  too  well  by  our  own  experience, 
and  by  observation  of  the  life  of  the  average  Christian, 


TWO  BUILDERS  ON   ONB  FOUNDATION.  161 

tiiat  many  a  true  follo\ver  of  Jesns  Christ  may  pile  much 
upon  the  foundation  which  is  unworthy  of  it.  We  too 
often  perpetrate  the  most  grotesque  inconsistencies  in 
building  up  the  structure  of  our  lives.  We  lay  one  course 
of  precious  stones  and  the  next  of  reeds  ;  one  of  silver  and 
the  next  of  timber.  As  you  may  see  in  the  wretched  huts 
in  which  wandering  Arabs  house  amongst  the  ruing  of 
■ome  historical  city,  that  half  a  man*s  house  shall  be  of 
fluted  marble  and  the  other  half  shall  be  of  crumbling  clay, 
BO,  alas !  many  Christian  men  and  women  are  building  their 
lives.  With  what  are  you  building  ?  and  what  are  you 
building  ?  A  palace,  a  temple,  a  shop,  a  place  of  sinful 
amusement,  a  prison — which  ?  We  build  inconsistently, 
and  in  our  own  persons  combine  these  two  builders.  And 
my  message  to  you  now  is  to  beseech  you  to  look  for  your- 
lelves  infco  your  building  ;  and  to  see  how  much,  and  what, 
of  it  is  likely  to  last,  and  how  much  of  it  is  sure  to  be 
burned  up  when  the  fire  comes. 

II. — And  now,  secondly,  let  me  ask  yon  to  think  of 
the  twofold  efEects  of  the  one  fire. 

The  flame  plays  round  both  the  buildings.  What  fire 
ii  it  ?  The  text  answers  the  questions  for  us,  "  the  day 
shall  .declare  it."  The  Apostle  does  not  think  that  he 
needs  to  say  what  day.  They  know  well  enough  what 
day  he  means.  To  him  and  to  them  there  is  one  day  so 
conspicuou  sand  so  often  in  their  thoughts,  that  there  is  no 
need  to  name  it  more  particularly.  TJie  day  is  the  day 
when  Christ  shall  come.  And  the  fire  is  but  the  symbol 
that  always  attends  the  Divine  appearance  in  the  Old  and 
in  the  New  Testament.  Thus,  for  instance,  we  have  the 
adumbration  of  the  final  judgment  in  one  of  the  Psalms, 
In  which  God  calls  Heaven  and  earth  to  be  assessors  of 
His  judgment  of  His  people,  and  there  we  read  "a  fire 
•hall  devour  before  Him,  and  it  shall  be  very  tempestuoui 
round  about  Him.**    The  symbol  of  the  fir«  is  but  the 

M 


162  TWO  BUILDERS  ON  ONB  FOUNDATION* 

expression  for  the  searching,  revealing,  testing,  destmctive 
energy  which  comes  with  Christ  when  He  comes  to  jndge 
the  world.  That  fire  reveals,  and  it  tests.  What  abides 
the  test  is  glorified  thereby  ;  what  does  not  is  burned  up 
and  annihilated.  When  Christ  comes  to  judge,  light 
comes  with  Him,  and  the  light  pours  in  upon  the  actions 
of  men,  and  reveals  them  for  what  they  are.  The  builders 
have  been  working,  if  I  may  say  so,  as  you  see  builders 
sometimes  nowadays,  under  special  circumstances,  and 
in  great  buildings,  working  night- work,  with  some  more 
or  less  sufficient  illumination.  The  day  dawns,  and  the 
building  at  which  they  have  been  toiling  in  the  dim  light 
stands  out  disclosed  in  all  its  beauty  or  deformity.  Its 
true  proportions  are  manifest  at  last. 

And  how  many  surprises  there  will  be— both  among  the 
workers  whose  work  abides,  and  amongst  those  whose  work 
perishes  I  Many  a  man  who  thought  that  he  was  building 
gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones  will  find  out  that  he 
was  pleasing  himself,  and  not  preaching  his  Master  ;  that 
he  was  talking  about  trivial,  transitory  things,  and  not 
about  eternal  truths  that  nourish  and  save  men's  souls. 
Many  a  preacher  on  whose  words  crowds  have  hung,  and 
whose  name  has  been  the  symbol  for  eloquence  and 
power,  in  that  day  will  look  on  what  he  built,  and  see 
that  it  is  all  naught,  wood  and  hay  and  stubble,  according 
to  that  solemn  word,  "  Lord  !  Lord  1  have  we  not  prophe- 
sied in  Thy  name  ?  And  He  shall  say  unto  them,  I  never 
knew  you  1"  Many  an  humble  and  timid  builder  who  did 
not  know  what  he  was  doing  will  see  that  he  has  built 
gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones,  according  to  that 
blessed  word,  "  Lord  I  when  saw  we  Thee  ....  in  prison 
and  visited  Thee  ?  And  He  shall  answer,  Inasmuch  as 
ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it  unto 
Me  1"  One  of  the  most  preci  dus  diamonds  in  Europe, 
that  blazes  now  in  a  king's  crown,  lay  on  a  atall  in  a 


TWO  BUILDERS  ON   ONB   FOUNDATION.  163 

piazza  at  Rome  for  months,  labelled,  "  Rock  crystal,  price 
one  franc.'*  And  many  of  the  most  precions  and  noble 
deeds  that  ever  were  done  on  earth  have  been  passed  un- 
recognised by  the  crowd  that  beheld  them,  and  forgotten 
except  by  Him. 

So,  dear  friends,  let  ns  try  to  build  for  Christ,  on  Him 
and  with  Him,  and  we  may  leave  the  revelations  of  the 
future  to  the  future  ;  sure  that  He  will  never  forget  any 
of  our  works. 

Not  only  is  there  this  revealing  process  suggested,  but 
the  one  class  of  service,  of  teaching,  and  of  life  is 
brightened  and  beautified  and  glorified  by  the  fire,  and 
the  other  is  destroyed  and  burned  up.  The  gold  and 
silver  and  costly  stones  are  glorified  because  revealed, 
and  heightened  in  beauty  by  being  brought  into  contact 
with  Christ  Himself,  as  a  fair  jewel  is  fairer  for  its 
setting,  and  flashes  in  the  sunshine.  And,  on  the  other 
side,  how  much  of  all  our  lives  will  be  sunken  out  of 
existence,  crushed  into  nonentity,  made  as  if  it  had  never 
been  at  all,  by  the  simple  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ !  Of 
course,  in  so  far  as  the  outward  body  of  our  deeds  is 
concerned,  all  our  works,  good  or  bad,  are  ended  in  that 
day  ;  and  so  far  as  the  results  on  character  and  fate  are 
concerned,  all  the  work  of  every  man,  be  it  good  or  bad, 
lives  on  for  ever.  But  whilst  these  things  are  both  true, 
there  is  a  very  real  sense  in  which,  whatever  in  our 
conduct  is  acceptable  to  Him,  our  Judge,  will  last— in  His 
approving  knowledge,  in  blessed  results  to  ourselves  the 
doers,  and,  because  it  is  in  accordance  with  that  Divine 
Will  which  is  the  only  permanent  reality  in  the  universe, 
will  "  abide  for  ever,"  as  He  does.  It  is  also  true  that  all 
our  actions  which  have  not  in  them  the  life-giving  spirit 
of  a  loving  obedience  to  a  loving  Christ,  will,  when  the 
pure  light  of  judgment  falls  on  them,  shrivel  up  like 
iome  unclean  fongoi  in  the  sanflhine,  and  be  as  they 

M  2 


164  TWO  BUILDBB8  ON  ONB  VOXTNDATIOV. 

had  nerer  been,  except  only  for  the  p«ln  ttial  4k«k 

perishing  will  give  and  the  ugly  void  whieh  thtir  annihi- 
lation will  leave  in  the  edifice  of  our  lives.  Suppose  that 
process  were  anticipated,  and  there  could  aome  to  yau 
to-day  a  power  which  would  sweep  out  of  your  aon- 
sciousness,  and  out  of  the  fabric  of  your  lives,  all  which 
that  Day  will  annihilate, — what  a  poor,  nnoonnected 
huddle  of  confusion  and  broken  fragment!  your  life 
would  be  I  It  would  be  like  a  house  after  bombardment, 
with  great  gaps  in  the  walls  where  a  shell  had  burst,  and 
the  whole  tottering  to  fall.  It  would  be  like  a  sail  in  a 
man-of-war  riddled  with  ihot,  and  scarcely  enough  of  it 
left  to  hang  together.  There  are  inconsistent  Christians 
in  this  congregation  to-day,  I  have  no  doubt,  whose 
years  might  be  reduced,  as  it  were,  into  moments,  if  all 
the  deeds  which  were  no  better  than  straw  and  wood 
were  deducted.  Test  yourselves  as  far  as  you  ean  before 
that  time  comes,  and  see  how  much  of  to-day,  how  much 
of  yesterday,  how  much  of  yourself  would  survive  if  that 
flashing  light  were  to  eome  now.  The  selfish  deeds, 
the  Ood-forgetting  deeds,  the  lust,  the  greed,  will  all 
vanish  and  go  up  in  foul-smelling  smoke.  And  what  is 
left  will  be  the  gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones ; 
all  holy  desires,  and  self-sacrificing  service,  and  devout 
aspirations,  and  pure  Christ-like  character. 

''Only  the  Mtlons  of  the  Jail 

8m«U  rw6«t,  and  bloaom  la  th»  4Mli* 

ni.— And  now,  lastly,  look  at  the  twofold  aflfocti  «i  the 
builders. 

The  one  gets  a  reward,  the  other  suffen  the  loss  of  all 
his  toil ;  gets  no  wages  for  work  that  did  not  last,  is 
dragged  through  the  fire  and  the  smoke,  and,  Jost  saved 
from  being  burned  up,  he  stands  there,  amaied  and  im- 
poverished, amidst  the  ruins  of  his  home. 

HMf  are  both  Christians,  remember  that!     flMy  are 


TWO  BUILDBBS  ON  ONB  F0X3NDATI0H.  165 

both  on  the  foundation  :  that  is  not  to  be  forgotten.  The 
one  of  them  gets  the  consequences  of  his  services.  We 
do  not  need  to  shrink  from  admitting  the  idea  of  a  reward, 
the  wages  that  are  paid  for  what  a  man  has  done.  Christ 
perpetually  speaks  to  us  about  Heaven  as  being,  in  a  very 
deep  sense,  a  reward.  And  so  does  the  whole  of  the  New 
Testament,  not  because  men  deserve  any  Heaven  at  all, 
out  because  the  Heaven  which  they  do  not  deserve,  and 
which  they  get  only  by  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
through  faith  in  Him,  is  given  in  the  measure  of  their 
capacity,  which  depends  on  their  character,  and  is  largely 
determined  by  their  habitual  conduct. 

And  so  whilst,  on  the  one  hand,  the  foundation  of  all 
our  hope  of  Heaven  is  "  Not  by  works  of  righteousness 
which  we  have  done,  but  by  His  mercy  He  saved  us,**  on 
the  other  hand,  if  we  will  take  the  whole  scope  of  the 
Christian  teaching  of  the  future  life,  the  notion  of  faith- 
fulness rewarded  by  corresponding  crowns  is  distinctly  a 
part  of  it  Consequently,  unfaithfulness  receives  a  less 
reward  and  a  starless  crown ;  and  a  man  who,  in  his 
deepest  heart,  may  be  a  Christian,  and  who  is  thus,  and  so 
far,  building  upon  the  foundation,  may  live  so  inconsis- 
tently, and  so  forget  his  obligations  and  the  character  that 
he  ought  to  sustain,  that  before  that  revealing  fire  all  but 
his  whole  life  may  be  burned  up,  and  he  himself  only 
saved  by  being  dragged,  as  it  were,  through  the  flama. 

One  looks  around  upon  Christian  people,  one  looks  into 
one's  own  heart,  and  one  feels  that  the  solenm  picture  of 
my  text  will  apply  to  a  great  many  professing  Christians. 
How  much  of  all  our  lives  will  be  burned  up  then  I  For 
how  much  of  it  we  shall  not  get  any  wages,  because  it  will 
have  ceased  to  exist  I  And  yet — and  yet — though  our 
inconsistencies  be  so  many,  let  us  not  despair.  It  is  pos- 
sible, after  all  our  imperfections,  that  we  may  yet  be  rest- 
ing upon  that  foundation ;  and  if  so  we  shall  lose  a  great 


166  TWO  BUILDBRS  ON   ONB  FOUNDATIOH. 

deal,  but  we  shall  not  lose  onrselves.  The  inconsistent 
Christian's  inconsistencies  shall  be  bnmed  np.  Thank 
God  for  that  assurance  I  What  better  could  happen  t« 
them  or  for  him  than  that  they  should  be  destroyed  and 
he  set  free  from  them  ?  Such  a  saying  is  a  promise  and 
a  gospel,  quite  as  much  as  a  threatening.  Instead  of  the 
hovels,  he  may  build  a  palace.  The  fire  of  London 
finished  the  plague  of  London,  and  statelier  streets  and 
solid  stone  buildings  took  the  place  of  the  fetid  alleys  and 
tumble-down  houses  that  were  burned.  But  still  that  im- 
perfect Christian  "shall  suffer  loss" — the  loss  of  what 
he  might  have  gained.  He  shall  lose  the  difference  be- 
tween the  ten  cities  over  which  some  rule,  and  the  far 
imaller  territory  over  which  he  is  able  to  exercise  au- 
thority. He  shall  lose  remembrances  which  are  true 
wealth.  He  shall  lose,  in  that  he  will  stand  further  from  the 
Lord,  and  possess,  because  he  can  contain,  less  of  His  glory. 
The  two  men  are  both  Christians.  They  have  both 
built  on  the  foundation,  whether  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
text  we  take  that  as  meaning  teaching,  or,  in  the  wider  refer- 
ence which  may  be  fairly  given  to  the  words,  we  take  it 
as  meaning  life.  The  one  has  builded  imperishable  work 
of  solid  materials,  which  the  merciful  Judge  accepts  and 
rewards,  for,  blessed  be  His  name,  our  deeds  do  not  need 
to  be  perfect  in  order  to  please  Him  and  win  His  smile. 
The  other  comes  all  but  empty-handed,  saved  because  he 
has  faith,  but  saved  so  as  through  fire,  because  his  faith 
was  so  nearly  dead  that  it  brought  forth  few  works,  and 
these  of  no  high  type  of  Christian  excellence.  His  crown 
is  far  less  resplendent  and  starry  than  th«  other's.  His 
seat  at  Christ's  table  in  the  Kingdom  is  far  lower.  His 
heaven  is  narrower  and  less  radiant.  These  two  are  like 
two  vessels,  one  of  which  comes  into  harbour  with  a  rich 
freight  and  flying  colours,  and  is  welcomed  with  tumult 
of  acclaim.    The  other  strikes  on  the  bar      **Some  on 


TWO  BUILDERS  ON  ONK  FOUNDATION.  167 

boards,  and  some  on  broken  pieces  of  the  ship,  all  come 
gaf  e  to  land.'*  But  ship  and  cargo,  and  profit  of  the  ven- 
ture, are  all  lost.  **  He  shall  suffer  loss,  but  he  himself 
•hall  be  saved," 

My  friends  I  There  is  one  thing  saves  a  man's  soul, 
and  that  is  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  But  if  a  man's  faith  be 
so  imperfect  that  it  has  very,  very  slightly  influenced  his 
character — and  that  is  the  case  with  many  professing 
Christians  that  are  listening  untroubled  to  me  now — his 
faith  will  never  fit  him  for  a  lofty  place  in  the  Heavens. 
He  will  need  a  great  deal  to  be  burned  out  of  him  in 
that  coming  of  our  Lord,  and  he  will  only  be  fit  to  be 
among  **  the  least  in  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 

No  doubt  there  is  a  great  gulf  between  the  last  of  those 
who  are  within  and  the  first  of  those  who  are  without. 
No  doubt  the  poorest  building  that  is  built  on  the  found- 
ation will  have  something  that  will  stand  whew  the  storm 
comes,  because  it  is  founded  on  a  rock,  while  the  fairest 
that  is  on  the  sand  will  be  swept  away  when  the  floods 
undermine  its  foundations,  and  the  rain  penetrates  its  roof, 
and  the  winds  batter  its  walls.      But  do  you,  Christian 
men,   cherish   the  noble  ambition  of  being  more  than 
"  a  doorkeeper  in  the  house  of  the  Lord."    Seek  for  high 
attainments  in  Christian  character.    It  is  well  to  desire 
for  oneself  a  high  place  in  the  Kingdom,  if  the  desire  leads 
to  the  holy  life  and  the  earnest  seeking  after  communion 
with  Christ,  to  which  alone  such  high  places  can  be  given. 
So  build  on  the  foundation,  and  you  will  build  secure. 
Build  on  it  gold  and   silver  and  precious  stones,  true 
thoughts  and   holy   deeds,   loving,  pure,   unselfish,  and 
Christlike.    Giving  all  diligence,  add  to  your  faith  what- 
soever things  are  lovely  and  of  good  report,  and  so  you 
will  not  merely  be  "  saved  as  through  fire,"  but  an  entrance 
shall  be  ministered  unto  you  abundantly  into  the  ever- 
lasting Kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Chriat. 


WHAT  CKOUCHES  AT  THE   DOOR. 


8ERM0N  XIY. 


WHAT  OROTTOHBS  AT  THB  DOOB. 

**If  tboo  doMk  not  wen,  sin  oroncheth  at  the  door;  and  onto  ibm  Aall  fet  feii 
dMira,  and  thoa  ihalt  role  orer  him."— Gjen.  It.  7.  (B.  Y.) 

These  early  narratives  clothe  great  moral  and  spiritnal 
trnths  in  pictnresqne  forms,  through,  which  it  is  difficult 
for  ug  to  pierce.  In  the  world's  childhood,  God  spoke  to 
men  as  to  children,  because  there  were  no  words  then 
framed  which  would  express  what  we  call  abstract  con- 
ceptions. They  had  to  be  shown  by  pictures.  But  these 
early  men,  simple  and  childlike  as  they  were,  had  con- 
sciences ;  and  one  abstraction  they  did  understand,  and 
that  was  sin.  They  knew  the  difference  between  good 
and  evil. 

So  we  have  here  God  speaking  to  Cain,  who  was  wroth 
because  of  the  rejection  of  his  sacrifice  ;  and  in  dim,  enig- 
matical words  setting  forth  the  reason  of  that  rejection. 
"  If  thou  doest  well,  shalt  thou  not  be  accepted  ?"  Then 
clearly  his  sacrifice  was  rejected  because  it  was  the  sacri 
fice  of  an  evil  doer.  His  description  as  such  is  given  in 
the  words  of  my  text,  which  are  hard  for  us  to  translate 
into  our  modem  less  vivid  and  picturesque  language.  **  If 
thou  doest  not  well,  sin  lieth  at  the  door ;  and  unto  thee 
shall  be  his  desire,  and  thou  shalt  rule  over  him."  Strange 


172  WHAT  OBOUCHES  AT  THB  DOOB. 

M  the  words  Bottnd,  if  I  mistake  not,  they  oonTey  tome 
very  solemn  lessons,  and  if  well  considered,  become  preg- 
nant with  meaning. 

The  key  to  the  whole  interpretation  of  them  is  to 
remember  that  they  describe  what  happens  after,  and 
because  of,  wrong-doing.  They  are  all  suspended  on  "  If 
thon  doest  not  well."  Then,  in  that  case,  for  the  first 
thing — "  sin  lieth  at  the  door."  Now  the  word  translated 
here  "lieth"  is  employed  only  to  express  the  crouching 
of  an  animal,  and  frequently,  of  a  wild  animal.  The  pic- 
ture then  is  of  the  wrong-doer*s  sin  lying  at  his  door  there 
like  a  crouching  tiger  ready  to  spring,  and  if  it  springs, 
fatal.  "  If  thou  doest  not  well,  a  wild  beast  crouches  at 
thy  door." 

Then  there  follow,  with  s  singular  swift  transition  of 
the  metaphor,  other  words  still  harder  to  interpret,  and 
which  have  been,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  interpreted  in  very 
diverse  fashions.  "  And  unto  thee  shall  be  its*^  (I  make 
that  slight  alteration  upon  our  version)  "  desire,  and  thou 
Shalt  rule  over  it.  Where  did  we  hear  these  words  before  ? 
They  were  spoken  to  Eve,  in  the  declaration  of  her 
punishment.  They  contain  the  blessing  that  was  im- 
bedded in  the  curse.  "Thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy 
husband,  and  he  shall  rule  over  thee."  The  longing  of 
the  pure  womanly  heart  to  the  husband  of  her  love,  and 
the  authority  of  the  husband  over  the  loving  wife— the 
source  of  the  deepest  joy  and  purity  of  earth,  is  trans- 
ferred, by  a  singularly  bold  metaphor,  to  this  other  rela- 
tionship, and,  in  horrible  parody  of  the  wedded  union  and 
love,  we  have  the  picture  of  the  sin  that  was  thought  of 
M  crouching  at  the  sinner's  door  like  a  wild  beast,  now,  as 
it  were,  wedded  to  him.  He  is  mated  to  it  now,  and  it 
has  a  kind  of  tigerish,  murderous  desire  after  him,  while 
he  on  his  part  is  to  subdue  and  control  it 

The  reference  of  these  clauses  to  the  sin  which  has  ]nst 


WHAT  OHOUOHBS  AT  THE  DOOB»  173 

been  fpokem  of  involyes,  no  donbt,  a  Tory  bold  figure, 
which  has  leemed  to  many  readers  too  bold  to  be  ad- 
missible, and  the  words  have  therefore  been  sapposed  to 
refer  to  Abel,  who,  as  the  younger  brother,  wonld  be 
subordinate  to  Cain.  Bnt  such  a  reference  breaks  the 
connection  of  the  sentence,  introduces  a  thought  which 
is  not  a  consequence  of  Cain's  not  doing  well,  has  no 
moral  bearing  to  warrant  its  appearance  here,  and  com- 
pels UB  to  trarel  an  inconveniently  long  distance  back 
in  the  context  to  find  an  antecedent  to  the  "his''  and 
"  him"  of  our  text.  It  seems  to  be  more  in  consonance, 
therefore,  with  the  archaic  style  of  the  whole  narrative, 
and  to  yield  a  profounder  and  worthier  meaning,  if  we 
recognise  the  boldness  of  the  metaphor,  and  take  **  sin** 
as  the  subject  of  the  whole.  Now  all  this  puts  in  con- 
crete, metaphorical  shape,  suited  to  the  stature  of  the 
hearers,  great  and  solemn  truths.  Let  ub  try  to  translate 
them  into  more  modern  speech, 

I.— First  think,  then,  of  that  wild  beast  which  we  tether 
to  onr  doors  by  our  wrong-doing. 

We  talk  about  "responsibility"  and  "guilt,''  and  ••eon- 
Bequences  that  never  can  be  effaced,"  and  the  like.  And  all 
these  abstract  and  quasi-philosophical  terms  are  implied 
in  the  grim,  tremendous  metaphor  of  my  text  **  If  thou 
doest  not  well,  a  tiger,  a  wild  beast  is  crouching  at  thy 
door."  We  are  all  apt  to  be  deceived  by  the  imagination 
that  when  an  evil  deed  is  done,  it  passes  away  and  leaves 
no  permanent  results.  The  lesson  taught  the  childlike 
primitive  man  here,  at  the  beginning,  before  experience 
had  accumulated  instances  which  might  demonstrate  the 
Bolemn  truth,  was  that  every  human  deed  is  immortal, 
and  that  the  transitory  evil  thought,  or  word,  or  act, 
which  seems  to  fleet  by  like  a  cloud,  has  a  permanent 
being,  and  hereafter  haunts  the  life  of  the  doer,  as  a  reel 
presence.    If  thon  doest  not  well,  tboa  4ail  enete  • 


174  WHAT  CROUCHES  AT  THE  DOOR. 

horrible  something  which  nestles  beside  thee  hencefor- 
ward. The  momentary  act  is  incarnated,  as  it  were,  and 
sit«  there  at  the  doer's  door-post  waiting  for  him  :  which 
being  turned  into  less  forcible  but  more  modem  lan- 
guage, is  just  this  : — every  sin  that  a  man  does  has 
perennial  consequences,  which  abide  with  the  doer  for 
ever  more. 

I  need  not  dwell  upon  illustrations  of  that  to  any 
length.  Let  me  just  run  over  two  or  three  ways  in  which 
it  is  true.  First  of  all,  there  is  that  solemn  fact  which  we 
put  into  a  long  word  that  comes  glibly  off  people's  lips, 
and  impresses  them  very  little — the  solemn  fact  of  respon- 
sibility. We  speak  in  common  talk  of  such  and  such  a 
thing  lying  at  some  one's  door.  Whether  the  phrase  has 
come  from  this  text  I  do  not  know.  But  it  helps  to  illus- 
trate the  force  of  these  words,  and  to  suggest  that  they 
mean  this,  among  other  things,  that  we  have  to  answer  for 
every  deed,  however  evanescent,  hoAvever  long  forgotten. 
Its  guilt  is  on  our  heads.  Its  consequences  have  to  be 
experienced  by  us.  We  drink  as  we  have  brewed.  As 
we  make  our  beds,  so  we  lie  on  them.  There  is  no  es- 
cape from  the  law  of  consequences.  "  If  'twere  done, 
when  'tis  done,  then  'twere  well  it  were  done  quickly." 
But  seeing  that  it  is  not  done  when  'tis  done,  then  perhaps 
it  would  be  better  that  it  were  not  done  at  all.  Your 
deed  of  a  moment,  forgotten  almost  as  soon  as  done,  lies 
there  at  your  door ;  or  to  take  a  more  modern  and  com- 
mercial figure,  it  is  debited  to  your  account,  and  stands 
inscribed  against  you  for  ever. 

Think  how  you  would  like  it  if  all  your  deeds  from  your 
childhood,  all  your  follies,  your  vices,  your  evil  thoughts, 
your  •vil  impulses,  and  youiL^evil  actions— were  all  made 
visible  and  embodied  there  before  you.  They  are  there, 
though  you  do  not  see  them  yet.  All  round  your  door 
tkay  sit  ready  to  meet  you  and  to  bay  out  condemnation 


WHAT  OROUCHBS  AT  THE  DOOB.  175 

as  yon  go  forth.  They  are  there,  and  one  day  yon  will 
find  out  that  they  are.  For  this  is  the  law,  certain  as  the 
revolution  of  the  stars  and  fixed  as  the  pillars  of  the  firm- 
ament— "Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap."  There  is  no  seed  which  does  not  sprout  in  the  har- 
Test  of  the  moral  life.  Every  deed  germinates  according  to 
Its  kind.  For  all  that  a  man  does  he  has  to  carry  the 
consequences,  and  everyone  shall  bear  his  own  burden. 
**  If  thou  doest  not  well,"  it  is  not,  as  we  fondly  conceive 
it  sometimes  to  be,  a  mere  passing  deflection  from  the 
rule  of  right,  which  is  done  and  done  with,  but  we  have 
created,  as  out  of  our  substance,  a  witness  against  our- 
selves whose  voice  can  never  be  stifled.  "  If  thou  doest 
not  well"  thy  sin  takes  permanent  form  and  is  fastened 
to  thy  door. 

And  then,  let  me  remind  you  too,  how  the  metaphor  of 
our  text  is  confirmed  by  other  obvious  facts,  on  which  I 
need  but  briefly  dwell.  Putting  aside  all  the  remoter 
bearings  of  that  thought  of  responsibility,  I  suppose  we 
all  admit  that  we  have  consciences  ;  I  suppose  that  we  all 
know  that  we  have  memories.  I  suppose  we  all  of  us 
have  seen,  in  the  cases  of  others,  and  have  experienced 
for  ourselves,  how  deeds  long  done  and  long  forgotten 
have  an  awful  power  of  rising  again  after  many  long 
years. 

Be  sure  that  your  memory  has  in  it  everything  that 
you  ever  did.  A  landscape  may  be  hidden  by  mists,  but 
a  puff  of  wind  will  clear  them  away,  and  it  will  all  lie 
there,  visible  to  the  furthest  horizon.  There  is  no  fact 
more  certain  than  the  extraordinary  swiftness  and  com- 
pleteness with  which,  in  certain  circumstances  of  life,  and 
often  very  near  the  close  of  it,  the  whole  panorama  of  the 
past  may  rise  again  before  a  man,  as  if  one  lightning  flash 
showed  all  the  dreary  desolation  that  lay  behind  him. 
There  have  been  men  recovered  from  drowning  and  the 


176  WHAT  CROUCHES  AT  THB  DOOR. 

like,  who  have  told  ns  that,  as  in  an  instant,  there  leemed 
unrolled  hefore  their  startled  eyes  the  whole  scroll  of 
their  earthly  career. 

The  records  of  memory  are  like  those  pages  on  which 
yon  write  with  sympathetic  ink,  which  disappears  when 
dry,  and  seems  to  leave  the  page  blank.  You  have  only 
to  hold  it  before  the  fire,  or  subject  it  to  the  proper  chemi- 
cal process,  and  at  once  it  stands  out  legible.  You  are 
writing  your  biography  upon  the  fleshly  tables  of  your 
heart,  my  brother  ;  and  one  day  it  will  all  be  spread  out 
before  you,  and  you  will  be  bid  to  read  it,  and  to  say 
what  you  think  of  it.  The  stings  of  a  nettle  will  bum 
days  after,  if  they  are  touched  with  water.  The  sting  and 
inflammation  of  your  evil  deeds,  though  it  has  died  down, 
is  capable  of  being  resuscitated,  and  it  will  be. 

What  an  awful  menagerie  of  unclean  beasts  some  of  ns 
have  at  our  doors  I  What  sort  of  creatures  have  you 
tethered  at  yours  ?  Crawling  serpents,  ugly  and  venom- 
ous ;  wild  creatures,  fierce  and  bloody,  obscene  and  fonl ; 
tigers  and  bears ;  lustful  and  mischievous  apes  and 
monkeys  ?  or  such  as  are  lovely  and  of  good  report, — doves 
and  lambs,  creatures  pure  and  peaceable,  patient  to  serve 
and  gentle  of  spirit  ?  Remember,  remember,  that  what  a 
man  soweth — be  it  hemlock  or  be  it  wheat — ^that,  and 
nothing  else,  "  shall  he  reap." 

II. — Now,  let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  the  next  thought 
that  is  here  ;  which  is  put  into  a  strong  and,  to  our  mod- 
em notions,  somewhat  violent  metaphor ; — ^the  horrible 
longing,  as  it  were,  of  sin  toward  the  sinner—"  Unto  thee 
shall  be  its  desire." 

As  I  explained,  these  words  are  drawn  from  the  previous 
chapter,  where  they  refer  to  the  holy  union  of  heart  and 
affection  in  husband  and  wife.  Here  they  are  transferred 
with  tremendous  force,  to  set  forth  that  which  is  a  kind 
of  horrible  parody  of  that  conjugal  relation.    A  man  la 


WHAT  CROUCHES  AT  THE  DOOR.  177 

married  to  his  wickedness,  is  mated  to  his  evil,  and  it  hai, 
as  it  were,  a  tigerish  longing  for  him,  unhallowed  and 
murderous.  That  is  to  say — our  sins  act  towards  us  as  if 
they  desired  to  draw  our  love  to  themselves.  This  is  just 
another  form  of  the  statement  that  when  once  a  man  has 
done  a  wrong  thing  it  has  an  awful  power  of  attracting 
him  and  making  him  hunger  to  do  it  again.  Every  evil 
that  I  do  may,  indeed,  for  a  moment  create  in  me  a  revul- 
sion of  conscience  ;  but  it  also  exercises  a  fascination  over 
me  which  it  is  hard  to  resist.  It  is  a  great  deal  easier  to 
find  a  man  that  has  never  done  a  wrong  thing  than  to  find 
a  man  that  has  only  done  it  once.  If  the  wall  of  the  dyke 
is  sound  it  will  keep  the  water  out,  but  if  there  is  the  tinis 
est  hole  in  it,  it  will  all  come  in.  So  the  evil  that  you  do- 
asserts  its  power  over  you,  or,  in  the  vigorous  metaphor  of 
my  text,  it  has  a  fierce,  longing  desire  after  you,  and  it 
gets  you  into  its  clutches. 

•*  The  foolish  woman  sitteth  in  the  high  places  of  the 
city,  and  saith,  Whoso  is  simple  let  him  turn  in  hither. 
And  foolish  men  go  after  her,  and  know  not  that  her 
guests  are  in  the  depths  of  hell."  Ah  I  my  brother  I  be- 
ware of  that  siren  voice  that  draws  you  away  from  all  the 
sweet  and  simple  and  pure  food  which  wisdom  spreads 
upon  her  table,  to  tempt  the  beast  that  is  in  you  with  the 
words,  **  Stolen  waters  are  sweet,  and  bread  eaten  in  secret 
is  pleasant."  Beware  of  the  first  evils,  for  as  sure  as  yon 
are  living,  the  first  step  taken  will  make  the  second  seem 
to  become  necessary.  The  first  drop  will  be  followed  by 
a  bigger  second,  and  the  second,  at  a  shorter  interval,  by 
a  more  copious  third,  until  the  drops  become  a  shower, 
and  the  shower  becomes  a  deluge.  The  course  of  evil  is 
ever  wider  and  deeper,  and  more  tumultuous.  The  little 
sins  get  in  at  the  window,  and  open  the  front  door  for  the 
full-grown  housebreakers.  One  smoothes  the  path  for 
the  other.    All  sin  has  an  awful  power  of  perpetuating 

m 


178  WHAT   CROUCHBS  AT  THE  DOOR. 

and  Increasing  itself.  As  the  prophet  says  in  his  vision 
of  the  doleful  creatures  that  make  their  sport  in  the 
desolate  city,  "  None  of  them  shall  want  her  mate.  The 
wild  beasts  of  the  desert  shall  meet  with  the  wild  beasts 
of  the  island."  Every  sin  tells  upon  character,  and  makes 
the  repetition  of  itself  more  and  more  easy.  "  None  is 
barren  among  them."  And  all  sin  is  linked  together  in  a 
slimy  tangle,  like  a  field  of  seaweed,  so  that  the  man  once 
caught  in  its  oozy  fingers  is  almost  sure  to  be  drowned. 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  one  word  about  the  command, 
which  is  also  a  promise,  **  To  thee  shall  be  its  desire,  and 
thou  shalt  rule  over  it." 

Man's  primitive  charter,  according  to  the  earlier 
chapters  of  Genesis,  was  to  have  dominion  over  the  beasts 
of  the  field.  Cain  knew  what  it  was  to  war  against  the 
wild  creatures  which  contested  the  possession  of  the  earth 
with  man,  and  to  tame  some  of  them  for  his  uses.  And 
says  the  Divine  Toice,  just  as  yon  war  against  the 
beasts  of  prey;  just  as  you  subdue  to  your  purposes 
and  yoke  to  your  implements,  the  tameable  animals 
over  which  you  have  dominion,  so  rule  over  this  wild 
beast  that  is  threatening  you.  It  is  needful  for  all  men, 
if  they  do  not  mean  to  be  torn  to  pieces,  to  master 
the  animal  that  is  in  them,  and  the  wild  thing 
that  has  been  created  out  of  them.  It  is  bone  of 
your  bone  and  fiesh  of  your  flesh.  It  is  your  own 
evil  that  is  thus  incarnated  there,  as  it  were,  before 
you;  and  you  have  to  subdue  it,  if  it  is  not  to  tyran- 
nise over  you.  We  all  admit  that  in  theory.  But  how 
terribly  hard  the  practice  I  The  words  of  our  text  seem  to 
carry  but  little  hope  or  comfort  in  them,  to  the  man  who 
has  tried — as,  no  doubt,  many  of  us  have  tried — to  flee 
the  lusts  that  war  against  the  soul,  and  to  bridle  the 
animal  that  is  in  him.  Those  who  have  done  so  most 
honestly  know  best  how  hard  it  is,  and  may  fairly  ask, 


WHAT  CROUCHES  AT  THE  DOOR.  179 

Is  this  nselttss  repetition  of  the  threadbare  injnnction  all 
that  you  hcve  to  say  to  us  ?  If  so,  you  may  as  well  hold 
your  tong"  e.  A  wild  beast  sits  at  my  door,  you  say,  and 
then  yor  bid  me—"  Rule  thou  over  it ! "  Tell  me  to 
tame  th»«  tiger  I  "Canst  thou  draw  out  Leviathan  with  a 
hook  ?     Wilt  thou  take  him  a  servant  for  ever  ?  ** 

I  do  not  undervalue  the  earnest  and  sometimes  partially 
successful  efforts  at  moral  reformation  which  some  men 
of  more  than  usual  force  of  character  are  able  to  make, 
emancipating  themselves  from  outward  practice  of  gross 
«in,  and  achieving  for  themselves  much  that  is  admirable. 
But  if  we  rightly  understand  what  sin  is — namely,  the 
taking  self  for  our  law  and  centre  instead  of  God — and 
how  deep  its  working  and  all-pervading  its  poison,  we 
shall  learn  the  tragic  significance  of  the  prophet's  question, 
"  Can  the  leopard  change  his  spots  ?"  Then  may  a  man 
cast  out  sin  from  his  nature  by  his  own  resolve,  when  the 
body  can  eliminate  poison  from  the  veins  by  its  own 
energy.  If  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said  to  the  world 
than  this  message,  "  Sin  lieth  at  thy  door— rule  thou  over 
it,"  we  have  no  Gospel  to  preach,  and  sin's  dominion  is 
secure.  For  there  is  nothing  in  all  this  world  of  empty, 
windy  words,  more  empty  and  windy  than  to  come  to  a 
poor  soul  that  is  all  bespattered  and  stained  with  sin,  and 
say  to  him  :  "  Get  up,  and  make  thyself  clean,  and  keep 
thyself  so  1"     It  cannot  be  done. 

So  my  text,  though  it  keeps  itself  within  the  limits  of 
die  law  and  only  proclaims  duty,  must  have  hidden,  in 
its  very  hardness,  a  sweet  kernel  of  promise.  For  what 
God  commands  God  enables  us  to  do. 

Therefore  these  words :  "  Rule  thou  over  it,"  do  really 
point  onwards  through  all  the  a<,^es  to  that  one  fact  in 
which  every  man's  sin  is  conquered  and  neutralised,  and 
every  man's  struggles  may  be  made  hopeful  and  successful, 
the  great  fact  that  Jesus  Christ,  God's  own  Son,  came  down 

N  2 


180  WHAT  OROUOHBS  AT  THB  DOOB, 

from  HeaTen,  like  an  athlete  descending  into  the  arena, 
to  fight  with  and  to  overcome  the  grim  wild  beasts,  our 
passions  and  our  sins,  and  to  lead  them,  transformed^  in 
the  silken  leash  of  His  love. 

My  brother !  your  sin  is  mightier  than  yon.  The  old 
word  of  the  Psalm  is  true  about  every  one  of  ns,  "  Our 
iniquities  are  stronger  than  we.**  And,  blessed  be  His 
name  I  the  hope  of  the  Psalmist  is  the  experience  of  the 
Christian.  **  As  for  my  transgressions,  Thou  wilt  purge 
them  away.**  Christ  will  strengthen  you  to  conquer; 
Christ  will  take  away  the  guilt ;  Christ  will  bear,  has  borne, 
the  responsibility;  Christ  will  cleanse  the  memory;  Christ 
will  purge  the  conscience.  Trusting  to  Him,  and  by  His 
power  and  life  within  us,  we  may  conquer  our  eviL 
Trusting  to  Him  and  for  the  sake  of  His  blood  shed  for  us 
all  upon  the  Cross,  we  are  delivered  from  the  burden,  guilt, 
and  power  of  our  sins  and  of  our  sin.  With  thy  hand  in 
His,  and  thy  will  submitted  to  Him, "  Thou  shalt  tread  on 
the  lion  and  the  adder ;  the  young  lion  and  the  dragon 
thou  shalt  trample  under  foot.** 


A  PURE  CHURCH   AN   INCREASING   CHURCH 


SERMON  XV. 


A  PUBK  CHURCH  AN  INCREASINO  CHUBOH. 

*  And  the  Lord  addsd  to  tha  ehoreh  dafly  n«h  u  ihoald  b«  nTed."— Acm  tt.  ff. 
"And  the  Lord  added  to  them  daj  by  daj  those  that  were  being  MTed."  (B.T.) 

TOTT  observe  that  the  principal  alterations  in  the  Revised 
Version  of  these  words  are  two  :  the  one  the  omission  of 
•*  the  church,"  the  other  the  substitution  of  "  were  being 
saved  ••  for  "  such  as  should  be  saved."  The  former  of 
these  changes  has  an  interest  as  suggesting  that  at  the 
early  period  referred  to  the  name  of  "  the  church  *'  had 
not  yet  been  definitely  attached  to  the  infant  community, 
and  that  the  word  afterwards  crept  into  the  text  at  a  time 
when  ecclesiasticism  had  become  a  great  deal  stronger 
than  it  was  at  the  date  of  the  writing  of  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles. 

The  second  of  the  changes  is  of  more  importance.  The 
Authorised  Version's  rendering  suggests  that  salvation  is 
a  future  thing,  which  in  one  aspect  is  partially  true.  The 
Revised  Version,  which  is  also  by  far  the  more  literally 
accurate,  suggests  the  other  idea,  that  salvation  is  a  process 
going  on  all  through  the  course  of  a  Christian  man's  life. 
And  that  carries  very  large  and  important  lessons. 

I. — I  ask  you  to  notice  here,  first,  the  profound  con- 
eeption  which  the  writer  had  of  the  present  action  of  the 


184       A  PURE  CHURCH  AN  I^' CREASING  CHUBOH. 

ascended  Chriit.  **  The  Lord  added  to  them  day  by  day 
those  that  were  being  saved.*' 

Then,  Christ  (for  it  is  He  that  if  here  spoken  of  aa  the 
Lord),  the  living,  ascended  Christ  was  present  in,  and 
working  with,  that  little  commnnity  of  believing  souls. 
And  yon  will  find  that  the  thought  of  a  present  Saviour, 
Who  is  the  life-blood  uf  the  Choich  on  earth,  and  the 
spring  of  action  for  all  good  that  is  done  in  it  and  by  it, 
runs  through  the  whole  of  thia  book  of  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles. 

The  keynote  of  it  ia  struck  in  its  first  verses :  ''The 
former  treatise  have  I  made,  0  Theophilus,  of  all  that 
Jesus  began  to  do  and  to  teach,  until  the  day  in  which  He 
was  taken  up.**  That  is  the  description  of  Luke's  gospel^ 
and  it  implies  that  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  is  the  second 
treatise,  which  tells  all  that  Jesus  continued  to  do  and 
teach  after  that  He  was  taken  up.  So  the  Lord,  the 
ascended  Christ,  is  the  true  theme  and  hero  of  this  book. 
It  is  He,  for  instance,  that  sends  down  the  Spirit  on  the 
Day  of  Pentecost.  It  is  He  Whom  the  dying  martyr  see* 
•*  standing  at  the  right  hand  of  God,"  ready  to  help.  It  is 
He  Who  appears  to  the  persecutor  on  the  road  to  Damascus. 
It  is  He  Who  sends  Paul  and  his  company  to  preach  in 
Europe.  It  is  He  Who  opens  hearts  for  the  reception  of 
their  message.  It  is  He  Who  stands  by  the  Apostle  in  a 
vision,  and  bids  him  be  of  good  cheer,  and  go  forth  upon 
his  work.  Thus,  at  every  crisis  in  the  history  of  the 
Church,  it  is  the  Lord— that  is  to  say,  Christ  Himself — 
Who  is  revealed  as  working  in  them,  and  for  them,  the 
ascended  but  yet  ever-present  Guide,  Counsellor,  Inspirer, 
Protector,  and  Rewarder  of  them  that  put  their  trust  in 
Him.  So  here  it  is  He  that  adds  to  the  Church  daily 
them  that  were  being  saved. 

I  believe,  dear  brethren,  that  modem  Christianity  haa 
far  too  much  lost  the  vivid  impression  of  thia  preaent 


A  PURE  CHURCH  AJf   IKCRBASIJfG   CHURCH.       185 

Christ  as  actually  dwelling  and  working  among  us.  What 
is  good  in  us  and  what  is  bad  in  hs  conspire  to  make  us 
think  more  of  the  past  work  of  an  ascended  Christ  than  of 
the  present  work  of  an  indwelling  Christ.  We  cannot 
think  too  much  of  that  Cross  by  which  He  has  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  salvation  and  reconciliation  of  all  the 
world  ;  but  we  may  easily  think  too  exclusively  of  it,  and 
BO  fix  our  thoughts  upon  that  work  which  He  completed 
when  on  Calvary  He  said,  "  It  is  finished !"  as  to  forget 
the  continual  work  which  will  never  be  finished  until  His 
Church  is  perfected,  and  the  world  is  redeemed.  If  we 
are  a  Church  of  Christ  at  all,  we  have  Christ  in  Tery  deed 
among  us,  and  working  through  ns  and  on  ns.  And 
nnlesfl  we  have,  in  no  mystical  and  unreal  and  metaphori- 
cal sense,  but  in  the  simplest  and  yet  grandest  prose 
reality,  that  living  Saviour  here  in  our  hearts  and  in  our 
fellowship,  better  that  these  walls  were  levelled  with  the 
ground,  and  this  congregation  scattered  to  the  four  winds 
of  Heaven.    The  present  Christ  is  the  life  of  His  Church. 

Notice,  and  that  but  for  a  moment,  for  I  shall  have  to 
deal  with  it  more  especially  at  another  part  of  this  dis- 
course,— the  specific  action  which  is  here  ascribed  to  Him. 
He  adds  to  the  Church,  not  we^  not  our  preaching,  not  our 
eloquence,  our  fervour,  onr  efforts;  these  may  be  the 
weapons  in  His  hands,  but  the  hand  that  wields  the 
weapon  gives  it  all  its  power  to  wound  and  to  heal,  and 
it  is  Christ  Himself  Who,  by  His  present  energy,  is  here 
represented  as  being  the  Agent  of  all  the  good  that  is 
done  by  any  Christian  community,  and  the  Builder  up  of 
these  Churches  of  Hi^,  in  numbers  and  in  power. 

It  Is  His  will,  His  ideal  of  a  Christian  Church,  that 
continuously  it  should  be  gathering  into  its  fellowship 
ihose  that  are  being  saved.  That  is  His  meaning  in  the 
establishment  of  His  Church  upon  earth ;  and  that  is  T '  is 
^piiU  concerning  it  and  concerning  us.    And  the  qaestis^u 


186       A  FURB  CHURCH  AJN  INCREASING   CHURCH. 

should  press  on  every  society  of  Christians.  Does  ©or 
reality  correspond  to  Christ's  ideal  ?  Are  we,  as  a  portion 
of  His  great  heritage,  being  continually  replenished  by 
souls  that  come  to  tell  what  God  has  done  for  them  ?  Is 
there  an  unbroken  flow  of  such  into  what  we  call  our  com- 
munion ?  I  speak  to  yon  members  of  this  church,  and  I 
ask  you  to  ponder  the  question, — Is  it  so  ?  and  the  other 
question,  If  it  is  not  so,  wherefore  ?  "  The  Lord  added 
daily."    Why  does  not  the  Lord  add  daily  to  us  ? 

II. — Let  us  go  to  the  second  part  of  this  text,  and  see  if 
we  can  find  an  answer.  Notice  how  emphatically  there 
is  brought  out  here  the  attractive  power  of  an  earnest  and 
pure  Church. 

My  text  is  the  end  of  a  sentence.  What  is  the  begin- 
ning of  the  sentence  ?  Listen  I  "  All  that  believed  were 
together,  and  had  all  things  common  ;  and  sold  their 
possessions  and  goods,  and  parted  them  to  all  men,  as 
every  man  had  need.  And  they,  continuing  daily  with 
one  accord  in  the  Temple,  and  breaking  bread  from  house 
to  house,  did  eat  their  meat  with  gladness  and  single- 
ness of  heart,  praising  God,  and  having  favour  with  all 
the  people.  And  the  Lord  added."  Yes  I  Of  course. 
Suppose  you  were  like  these  people.  Suppose  this 
church  and  congregation  bore  stamped  upon  it,  plain  and 
deep  as  the  broad  arrow  of  the  king,  these  characteristics 
— manifest  fraternal  unity,  plain  unselfish  unworldliness, 
habitual  unbroken  devotion,  gladness  which  had  in  it  the 
solemnity  of  Heaven,  and  a  transparent  simplicity  of  life 
and  heart,  which  knew  nothing  of  by-ends  and  shabby, 
personal  motives  or  distracting  duplicity  of  purpose — do 
you  not  think  that  the  Lord  would  add  to  you  daily  such 
as  should  be  saved  ?  Or,  to  put  it  into  other  words, 
wherever  there  is  a  little  knot  of  men  obviously  held 
together  by  a  living  Christ,  and  obviously  manifesting  in 
their  lives  and  characters  the  features  of  that  Christ 


A  PURE  CHURCH  US  INCREASING  CHURCH,       187 

transforming  and  glorifying  them,  there  will  be  drawn 
to  them — by  natural  gravitation,  I  was  going  to  say,  but 
we  may  more  correctly  say,  by  the  gravitation  which  is 
natural  in  the  supernatural  realm — souls  that  have  been 
touched  by  the  grace  of  the  Lord,  and  souls  to  whom 
that  grace  has  been  brought  the  nearer  by  looking  upon 
them.  Wheresoever  there  is  inward  vigour  of  life  there 
will  be  outward  growth  ;  and  the  Church  which  is  pure, 
earnest,  living,  will  be  a  Church  which  spreads  and 
increases. 

Historically,  it  has  always  been  the  case  that  in  God*s 
Church  seasons  of  expansion  have  followed  upon  seasons 
of  deepened  spiritual  life  on  the  part  of  His  people. 
And  the  only  kind  of  growth  which  is  wholesome,  and  to 
be  desired  in  a  Christian  community,  is  the  growth 
as  a  consequence  of  the  revived  religiousness  of  the 
individuals  who  make  up  the  community. 

And  just  in  like  manner  as  such  a  community  will 
draw  to  it  men  who  are  like-minded,  so  it  will  repel  from 
it  all  the  formalist  people.  There  are  congregations  that 
have  got  the  stamp  of  worldliness  so  deep  upon  them 
that  the  men  who  want  to  be  burdened  with  as  little 
religion  as  may  be  respectable  will  find  themselves  at 
home  there.  And  I  come  to  you  Christian  people  here, 
for  whose  Christian  character  I  am  in  some  sense  and  to 
some  degree  responsible,  with  this  appeal :  Do  you  see 
to  it  that,  BO  far  as  your  influence  extends,  this  com- 
munity of  ours  be  such  as  that  half-dead  Christians  will 
never  think  of  coming  near  us,  and  those  whose  religion 
is  tepid  will  be  repelled  from  us,  but  they  who  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  earnest  devotion  and  lofty  con- 
secration, and  seek  to  live  unworldly  and  saint-like  lives, 
shall  recognise  in  us  men  like-minded,  and  from  whom 
they  may  draw  help.  I  beseech  you — if  you  will  not 
misunderstand  the  expression — make  yonr  communion 


188       ▲  PUBB  OHUBOH  AS  INORBASINQ  OHUROH. 

snch  that  it  eliall  repel  ai  well  as  attract ;  and  that  people 
will  find  nothing  here  to  draw  them  to  an  easy  religion 
of  wordf  and  formalism,  beneath  which  all  vermin  of 
worldliness  and  selfishness  may  Inrk,  bnt  shall  recognise 
in  ns  a  Chnreh  of  men  and  women  who  are  bent  npon 
holiness,  and  longing  for  more  and  more  eonformity  to 
the  Divine  Master. 

Now,  if  all  this  be  true,  it  is  possible  for  worldly  and 
stagnant  communities  calling  themselves  "churches*'  to 
thwart  Christ's  purpose,  and  to  make  it  both  impossible 
and  undesirable  that  He  should  add  to  them  the  souls 
that  He  cares  about.  It  is  a  solemn  thing  te  feel  that  we 
may  clog  Christ's  chariot-wheels,  that  there  may  be  so 
little  spiritual  life  in  us,  as  a  congregation,  that,  if  I  may 
BO  say,  He  dare  not  entrust  us  with  the  responsibility  of 
guarding  and  keeping  the  young  converts  whom  He  loves 
and  tends.  We  may  not  be  fit  to  be  trusted  with  them, 
and  that  may  be  why  we  do  not  get  them.  It  may  not  be 
good  for  them  that  they  should  be  dropped  into  the  re- 
frigerating atmosphere  of  such  a  Church,  and  that  may 
be  why  they  do  not  eome. 

Depend  upon  it,  brethren,  that,  far  more  than  my 
preaching,  your  lives  will  determine  the  expansion  of 
this  Church  of  ours.  And  if  my  preaching  is  pulling  one 
way  and  your  lives  the  other,  and  I  have  half  an  hour  a 
week  for  talk  and  you  have  seven  days  for  contradictory 
life,  which  of  the  two  do  you  think  is  likely  to  win  in  the 
tug?  I  beseech  you,  tsdce  the  words  that  I  am  now 
trying  to  speak,  to  yourselves.  Do  not  pass  them  to  the 
man  in  the  next  pew  and  think  how  well  they  fit  him, 
but  accept  them  as  needed  by  you.  And  remember  that 
just  as  a  bit  of  sealing-wax,  if  you  rub  it  on  your  sleeve 
and  so  warm  it,  develops  an  attractive  power,  the  Church 
whieh  if  warmed  will  draw  many  to  itself.  If  the 
earlier  words  of  this  context  apply  to  any  Christian  com* 


A  PURE  OHURCH  AJT  INORIASIKG  CHUROH.       189 

■mnity,  then  certainly  its  blessed  promise  will  appl j  to  it 
too,  and  to  snch  a  Chnrch  the  Lord  will  add  day  by  day 
them  that  are  being  saved. 

III.-*And  now,  lastly,  observe  the  definition  glyen  here 
of  the  class  of  persons  gathered  into  the  eommnnity. 

I  have  already  obserred,  in  the  earlier  portions  of  this 
discourse,  that  here  we  have  salvation  represented  as  a 
process,  a  progressive  thing  which  mns  on  all  through 
life.  In  the  New  Testament  there  are  yarions  points  of 
▼lew  from  which  that  great  idea  of  salvation  is  represented. 
It  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  past,  in  so  far  as  in  the 
definite  act  of  conversion  and  the  first  exercise  of  faith  in 
Jesns  Christ  the  whole  snbseqnent  evolntion  and  deyelop- 
ment  are  involved,  and  the  process  of  salvation  has  iti 
beginning  then,  when  a  man  turns  to  Gk>d.  It  is  some- 
times spoken  of  as  present,  in  so  far  as  the  joy  of 
deliverance  from  evil  and  possession  of  good,  which  is 
God,  is  realised  day  by  day.  It  is  sometimes  spoken  of 
as  future,  in  so  far  as  all  the  imperfect  possession  and 
pre- libations  of  salvation  which  we  taste  here  on  earth 
prophesy  and  point  onwards  to  their  own  perfecting  in 
the  climax  of  heaven.  But  all  these  three  points  of  view, 
past,  present,  and  future,  may  be  merged  into  this  one  of 
my  text,  which  speaks  of  every  saint  on  earth,  from  the 
infantile  to  the  most  mature,  as  standing  in  the  same  row, 
though  at  different  points ;  walking  on  the  same  road, 
though  advanced  different  distances  ;  all  participant  of  the 
same  process,  of  "  being  saved.** 

Through  all  life  the  deliverance  goes  on,  the  deliverance 
from  sin,  the  deliverance  from  wrath.  The  Christian 
salvation,  then,  according  to  the  teaching  of  this  emphatic 
phrase,  is  a  process  begun  at  conversion,  carried  on  pro- 
gressively through  the  life,  and  reaching  its  climax  in 
another  state.  Day  by  day,  through  the  spring  and  the 
early  summer,  the  sun  is  longer  in  the  sky,  and  rises 


190       A  PUBB  CHURCH  AS  INCRBABINQ  CHCTRCH. 

higher  in  the  heaveni.  And  the  path  of  the  Christian  ii 
as  the  shining  light.  Last  year's  greenwood  is  this  year's 
hardwood  ;  and  the  Christian,  in  like  manner,  has  to  grow 
in  the  grace  and  knowledge  of  the  Lord  and  Saviour.  So 
these  progressively,  and,  therefore,  as  yet  imperfectly 
saved  people,  were  gathered  into  the  Church. 

Now  I  have  but  two  things  to  say  about  that.  If  that 
be  the  description  of  the  kind  of  folk  that  come  into  a 
Christian  Church,  the  duties  of  that  Church  are  very 
plainly  marked.  And  the  first  great  one  is  to  see  to  it 
that  the  community  help  the  growth  of  its  members. 
There  are  Christian  Churches — I  do  not  say  whether  ours 
is  one  of  them  or  not— into  which,  if  a  young  plant  is 
brought,  it  is  pretty  sure  to  be  killed.  The  temperature 
is  80  low  that  the  tender  shoots  are  burned  as  with  frost, 
and  die.  I  have  seen  people,  coming  all  full  of  fervour 
and  of  faith,  into  Christian  congregations,  and  finding,  that 
the  average  round  about  them  was  so  much  lower  than 
their  own,  they  have  cooled  down  after  a  bit  to  the  fashion- 
able temperature,  and  grown  indifferent  like  their  brethren. 
Let  us,  dear  friends,  remember  that  a  Christian  Church  is 
a  nursery  of  imperfect  Christians,  and,  for  ourselves  and 
for  one  another,  try  to  make  our  communion  such  as  shall 
help  shy  and  tender  graces  to  unfold  themselves,  and  woo 
out  by  the  encouragement  of  example  the  lowest  and  the 
least  perfect  to  lofty  holiness  and  consecration  like  the 
Master's. 

And  if  I  am  speaking  to  any  in  this  congregation  who  hold 
aloof  from  Christian  fellowship  for  more  or  less  sufficient 
reasons,  let  me  press  upon  them,  in  one  word,  that  if  they 
are  conscious  of  however  imperfect  a  possession  of  that 
incipient  salvation,  their  place  is  thereby  determined 
and  they  are  doing  wrong  if  they  do  not  connect  them* 
selves  with  some  Christian  Communion,  and  stand  forth 
■s  members  of  Christ's  Church. 


A  PUBB  CHUBCH  A2f  INGKBABINQ  OHUROH.       191 

And  now  one  last  word.  I  have  tried  to  show  yon  that 
■alvation,  in  the  New  Testament,  is  regarded  as  a  process. 
The  opposite  thing  ki  a  process  too.  There  is  a  very 
awful  contrast  in  one  of  Paul*!  Eplstlet.  **  The  preaching 
of  the  Cross  is  to  them  w?io  are  in  th$  act  of  perishing 
foolishness  ;  nnto  ns  who  are  being  saved,  it  is  the  power 
of  God."  These  two  processes  start,  as  it  were,  from  the 
same  point,  one  by  slow  degrees  and  almost  imperceptible 
motion,  rising  higher  and  higher,  the  other,  by  slow  de- 
grees and  almost  nnconscions  descent,  sliding  steadily  and 
fatally  downward  ever  further  and  further. 

And  my  point  now  is  that  in  each  of  us  one  or  other  of 
these  processes  is  going  on.  Either  you  are  slowly  rising 
or  you  are  elipping  down.  Either  a  larger  measure  of  the 
life  of  Christ,  which  is  ^Iv^tion,  is  passing  into  your 
hearts,  or  bit  by  bit  you  are  dying  as  some  man  with 
creeping  paralysis,  that  begins  at  the  extremities,  and  with 
fell,  silent,  inexorable  footstep  advances  further  and 
further  towards  the  citadel  of  the  heart,  where  it  lays  its  icy 
hand  at  last,  and  the  man  is  dead.  You  are  either  "  being 
saved"  or  you  are  "  perishing."  No  man  becomes  a  devil 
all  at  once,  and  no  man  becomes  an  angel  all  at  once. 
Trust  yourself  to  Christ,  and  He  will  lift  you  to  Himself ; 
turn  your  back  upon  Him,  as  some  of  you  are  doing,  and 
you  will  settle  down,  down,  down,  in  the  muck  and  the 
mire  of  your  own  sensuality  and  selfishness,  until  at  last 
the  foul  ooze  spreads  over  your  head,  and  you  are  lost  in 
the  bog  for  ever. 


MAHANAIM  :    THE  TWO  CAMPS. 


8KRM0N  XVL 


MAHANAIM:    THE   TWO  CAMPS. 

"  And  Jacob  went  on  his  way,  and  the  angels  of  God  met  him.  And  whan  Jacoh 
saw  them,  he  said,  This  is  God's  host ;  and  he  called  the  name  of  that  place  Mahanaiui." 
(<•«.,  two  camps).— Gen.  zxzii.  1,  2. 

This  vision  came  at  a  crisis  in  JacoVs  life.  He  has  just 
left  the  honse  of  Laban,  his  father-in-law,  where  he  had 
lived  for  many  years,  and  in  company  with  a  long  caravan, 
consisting  of  wives,  children,  servants,  and  all  his  wealth 
turned  into  cattle,  is  journeying  back  again  to  Palestine. 
His  road  leads  him  close  by  the  country  of  Esan.  Jacob 
was  no  soldier,  and  he  is  naturally  terrified  to  meet  his 
justly  incensed  brother.  And  so,  as  he  plods  along  with  his 
defenceless  company  trailing  behind  him,  and  as  you  may 
see  the  Arab  caravans  streaming  over  the  same  uplands 
to-day,  all  at  once,  in  the  middle  of  his  march,  a  bright- 
harnessed  army  of  angels  meets  him.  Whether  visible  to 
the  eye  of  sense,  or,  as  would  appear,  only  to  the  eye  of 
faith,  they  are  visible  to  this  troubled  man  ;  and,  in  a  glow 
of  confident  joy,  he  calls  the  name  of  that  place  "  Mahan- 
aim,"  two  camps.  One  camp  was  the  little  one  of  his  down 
here,  with  the  helpless  women  and  children  and  his  own 
frightened  and  defenceless  self,  and  the  other  was  the 
great  one  up  there,  or  rather  in  shadowy  but  most  real 

O  % 


196  MAHANAJM  r  THB  TWO  0AMP8. 

spirltnal  presence  aronnd  abont  him,  as  a  body-gnard 
making  an  impregnable  wall  between  him  and  everj  foe. 
We  may  take  some  very  plain  and  everlattingly  tra« 
lessons  out  of  this  story. 

I. — First,  the  angels  of  God  meet  hb  on  the  dnsty  road  of 
common  life.  "  Jacob  went  on  hia  way,  and  the  angels  of 
God  met  him.*' 

As  he  was  tramping  along  there,  over  the  lonely  fields 
of  Edom,  with  many  a  thought  on  his  mind  and  many  a 
fear  at  his  heart,  but  feeling  "  There  is  the  path  that  I  have 
to  walk  on,*'  all  at  once  the  air  was  filled  with  the  soft 
rustle  of  angel  wings,  and  the  brightness  from  the  flashing 
armour  of  the  heavenly  hosta  flamed  across  his  unexpect- 
ing  eye.  And  so  is  it  evermore.  The  true  place  for  ns 
to  receive  visions  of  God  is  in  the  path  of  the  homely, 
prosaic  duties  which  He  lays  upon  ns.  The  dusty  road  is 
far  more  likely  to  be  trodden  by  angel  feet  than  the  re- 
mote summits  of  the  mountain,  where  we  sometimes 
would  fain  go ;  and  many  an  hour  consecrated  to  devotion 
has  less  of  the  manifest  presence  of  God  than  is  granted  to 
some  weary  heart  in  its  commonplace  struggle  with  the 
little  troubles  and  trials  of  daily  life.  These  make  the 
doors,  M  it  were^  hj  whieh  the  Tisitants  draw  near  lo 
ns. 

It  ii  the  tommon  dntleii 

«  Tht  nartiiw  fMBi,  lat  liny  iMk, 

that  not  only  give  ns  ^  all  we  ought  te  ask,**  \ni  are  the 
selected  means  and  ehannels  by  which,  ever,  Gk>d's 
visitants  draw  near  to  us.  The  man  that  has  never 
seen  an  angel  standing  beside  him,  and  driving  his 
loom  for  him,  or  helping  him  at  his  counter  and 
his  desk,  and  the  woman  that  has  never  seen  an  angel, 
according  to  the  bold  realism  and  homely  vision  of 
the  old  German  picture,  working  with  her  in  the  kitchen 
and  preparing  the  meal  for  the  hoofehold,  hKt%  little 


MAHANAIM  :  THB  TWO  OAMPS.  197 

thanee  of  meeting  snch  visitants  at  any  other  peint  of 

their  experience  or  event  of  their  lives. 

If  the  week  be  empty  of  the  angels,  yon  will  never  catch 
sight  of  a  feather  of  their  wings  on  the  Snnday.  And  if 
we  do  not  recognise  their  presence  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
prose,  and  the  commonplace,  and  tho  vulgarity,  and  the 
triviality  and  the  monotony,  the  dnst  of  the  small  duties, 
we  shall  go  np  to  the  summit  of  Sinai  itself  and  see 
nothing  there  but  cold  grey  stone  and  everlasting  snows. 
"Jacob  went  on  his  way,  and  the  angels  of  God  met 
him.**  The  true  field  for  religion  is  the  field  of  common 
Ufe. 

And  then  another  side  of  the  same  thought  is  this,  that 
it  is  in  the  path  where  God  has  bade  us  walk  that  we  shall 
find  the  angels  round  us.  We  may  meet  them,  indeed,  on 
paths  of  our  own  choosing,  but  it  will  be  the  sort  of 
angel  that  Balaam  met,  with  a  sword  in  his  hand,  mighty 
and  beautiful,  but  wrathful  too  ;  and  wo  had  better  not 
front  him  I  But  the  friendly  helpers,  the  emissaries  of 
God*s  love,  the  Apostles  of  His  grace,  do  not  haunt  the 
roads  that  we  make  for  ourselves.  Th^y  confine  them- 
selves rigidly  to  *Uhe  paths  in  which  God  has  before 
ordained  that  we  should  walk  in  them.**  A  man  has  no 
right  to  expect,  and  he  will  not  get  blessing  and  help  and 
Divine  gifts  when,  self-willedly,  he  has  taken  the  bit 
between  his  teeth,  and  is  choosing  his  own  road  in  the 
world.  But  if  he  will  say,  "  Lord  I  here  I  am ;  put  me 
where  Thou  wilt,  and  do  with  me  what  Thou  wilt,**  then 
he  may  be  sure  that  that  path,  though  it  may  be  solitary 
of  human  companionship,  and  leading  up  amongst  barren 
rocks  and  over  bare  moorlands,  where  the  sun  beats  down 
fiercely,  will  not  be  unvisited  by  a  better  presence,  so 
that  in  sweet  consciousness  of  sufficiency  of  rich  grace, 
he  shall  bo  able  to  say,  '*  I,  being  in  the  way,  the  Lord 
met  mo.** 


198  MAHANAIM  :  THE  TWO  OAMPS. 

II. — Still  further,  we  may  draw  from  this  incident  the 
lesson  that  God^s  angels  meet  ns  pnnctnally  at  the  honr 
of  need. 

Jacob  is  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  his  fear  eyery 
step.  He  is  now  jnst  on  the  borders  of  Esau's  country, 
and  close  upon  opening  communications  with  his  brother. 
At  that  critical  moiiient,  just  bdiore  the  finger  of  the 
clock  has  reached  the  point  on  the  dial  at  which  the  bell 
would  strike,  the  needed  help  comes,  the  angel  guards 
draw  near  and  camp  beside  him.  It  is  always  so.  "  The 
Lord  shall  help  her,  and  that  right  early."  His  hosts 
come  no  sooner  and  no  later  than  we  need.  If  they 
appeared  before  we  had  realised  our  danger  and  our 
defencelessness,  our  hearts  would  not  leap  up  at  their 
coming,  as  men  in  a  beleaguered  town  do  when  the  guns 
of  the  relieving  force  are  heard  booming  from  afar. 
Often  God's  delays  seem  to  us  inexplicable,  and  our 
prayers  to  have  no  more  effect  than  if  they  were 
spoken  to  a  sleeping  Baal.  But  such  delays  are  merciful. 
They  help  us  to  the  consciousness  of  our  need.  They  let 
us  feel  the  presence  of  the  sorrow.  They  give  oppor- 
tunity of  proving  the  weakness  of  all  other  supports. 
They  test  and  increase  desire  for  His  help.  They  throw 
us  more  unreservedly  into  His  arms.  They  afford  room 
for  the  sorrow  or  the  burden  to  work  its  peaceable  fruits. 
So,  and  in  many  other  ways,  delay  of  succour  fits  us  to 
receive  succour,  and  our  God  makes  no  tarrying  but  for 
our  sakes. 

It  is  His  way  to  let  ns  come  almost  to  the  edge  of  the 
precipice,  and  then,  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  when  anothei 
minute  and  we  are  over,  to  stretch  out  His  strong  righ 
hand  and  save  us.  So  Peter  is  left  in  prison,  though 
prayer  is  going  up  unceasingly  for  him — ^and  no  answer 
comes.  The  days  of  the  Passover  feast  slip  away,  and  still 
he  if  in  prison,  and  prayer  does  nothing  for  him.    The 


KAHANAIM  :  THE  TWO  0AHP8.  199 

last  day  of  his  life,  according  to  Herod's  purpose,  dawni, 
and  all  the  day  the  Church  lifts  up  its  voice — but  apparently 
there  is  no  answer,  nor  any  that  regarded.  The  night  comes, 
and  still  the  vain  cry  goes  up,  and  Heaven  seems  deaf  or 
apathetic.  The  night  wears  on,  and  still  no  help  comes. 
But  in  the  last  watch  of  that  last  night,  when  day  is  almost 
dawning,  at  nearly  the  last  minute  when  escape  would 
have  been  possible,  the  angel  touches  the  sleeping  Apostle, 
and  with  leisurely  calmness,  as  sure  that  he  had  ample 
time,  leads  him  out  to  freedom  and  safety.  It  was  pre- 
cisely because  Jesus  loved  the  household  at  Bethany  that, 
after  receiving  the  sister's  message.  He  abode  still  for  two 
days  in  the  same  place  where  He  was.  However  our  im- 
patience may  wonder  and  our  faithlessness  venture  some- 
times almost  to  rebuke  Him  when  He  comes  with  words 
like  Mary's  and  Martha's— "  Lord,  if  Thou  hadst  been 
here,  such  and  such  sorrows  would  not  have  happened, 
and  Thou  couldst  so  easily  have  been  here" — we  should 
leam  the  lesson  that  even  if  He  has  delayed  so  long  that 
the  dreaded  blow  has  fallen.  He  has  come  soon  enough  to 
make  it  the  occasion  for  a  still  more  glorious  communica- 
tion of  His  power. 

Rest  in  the  Lord,  wait  patiently  for  Him,  and  He  shall 
give  thee  the  desires  of  thine  heart. 

in. — Again,  we  learn  from  this  incident  that  the  angelf 
of  God  come  in  the  shape  which  we  need. 

Jacob's  want  at  the  moment  was  protection.  Therefore 
the  angels  appear  in  warlike  guise,  and  present  before  the 
defenceless  man  another  camp,  in  which  he  and  his 
unwieldy  caravan  of  women  and  children  and  cattle  may 
find  security.  If  his  special  want  had  been  of  some 
blessing  of  another  kind,  no  doubt  another  form  of  ap- 
pearance suited  with  precision  to  his  need  would  have 
been  imposed  upon  these  angel  helpers.  For  God's  gifts 
to  us  change  their  character ;  as  the  Rabbis  fabled  that 


200  MAHiLNAIM  :  THE  TWO  CAMPS. 

the  manna  tasted  to  eaeh  man  what  each  most  desired 
The  same  pore  Heavenly  bread  has  the  varying  savour 
that  commends  it  to  varying  palates.  God*s  grace  is 
Protean.  It  takes  all  the  forms  that  man^s  necessities 
reqnire.  As  water  assumes  the  shape  of  any  vessel 
into  which  it  is  put,  so  this  great  blessing  comes  to  each 
of  OS,  moulded  according  to  the  pressure  and  taking  the 
form  of  our  circumstances  and  necessities.  His  fulness 
is  all-sufficient.  It  is  the  same  blood  that,  passing  to 
all  the  members,  ministers  to  each  according  to  the  needs 
and  fashion  of  each.  And  it  is  the  same  grace  which, 
passing  to  our  souls,  in  each  man  is  shaped  according  to 
his  present  condition  and  ministers  to  his  present  wants. 

So,  dear  brethren,  in  that  great  fulness  each  of  as  may 
have  the  thing  that  we  need.  The  angel  who  to  one  man 
is  protection,  to  another  shall  be  teaching  and  inspiration, 
to  another  shall  appear  with  chariots  of  fire  and  horses  of 
fire  to  sweep  the  rapt  soul  heavenward  ;  to  another  shall 
draw  near  as  a  deliverer  from  his  fetters,  at  whose  touch 
the  bonds  shall  fall  from  off  him ;  to  another  shall  appear 
as  the  instructor  in  duty  and  the  appointor  of  a  path  of 
service,  like  that  vision  that  shone  in  the  castle  to  the 
Apostle  Paul,  and  said,  **  Thou  must  bear  witness  for  me 
at  Rome  ;**  to  another  shall  appear  as  opening  the  door  of 
Heaven  and  letting  a  fiood  of  light  come  down  upon  his 
darkened  heart,  as  to  the  Apocalyptic  seer  in  his  rocky 
Patmos.  And  all  this  worketh  that  one  and  the  self -same 
Lord  of  angels  dividing  to  every  man  severally  as  He  will, 
and  as  the  man  needs.  The  defenceless  Jacob  has  the 
manifestation  of  the  Divine  presence  in  the  guise  of 
armed  warriors  that  guard  his  unwarlike  camp. 

I  add  one  last  word.  Long  centuries  after  Jacob's 
experience  at  Mahanaim,  another  trembling  fugitive 
found  himself  there,  fearful,  like  Jacob,  of  the  vengeance 
and  anger  of  one  who  was  knit  to  him  by  blood.    When 


MAHANAIM  :  THE  TWO  CAMPS.  201 

poor  King  David  was  flying  from  the  face  of  Absalom  hie 
son,  the  first  place  where  he  made  a  stand,  and  where  he 
remained  during  the  whole  of  the  rebellion,  was  this 
town  of  Mahanaim,  away  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Jordan.  Do  you  not  think  that  to  the  kingly  exile,  in  his 
feebleness  and  his  fear,  the  very  name  of  his  resting- 
place  would  be  an  omen  ?  Would  he  not  recall  the  old 
story,  and  bethink  himself  of  how  round  that  other 
frightened  man 

*'Brlght-harnflflMduigeliitoo<l  In  order  gvTloMblet* 

and  would  he  not,  as  he  looked  on  his  little  band  of 
friends,  faithful  among  the  faithless,  have  his  eyesight 
cleared  to  behold  the  other  camp?  Such  a  vision,  no 
doubt,  inspired  the  calm  confidence  of  the  psalm  which 
evidently  belongs  to  that  dark  hour  of  his  life,  and  made 
it  possible  for  the  hunted  king,  with  his  feeble  band,  to 
sing  even  then,  "  I  will  both  lay  me  down  in  peace  and 
sleep,  for  Thou,  Lord,  makest  me  dwell  in  safety,  solitary 
though  I  am." 

Nor  is  the  vision  emptied  of  its  power  to  stay  and  make 
brave  by  all  the  ages  that  have  passed.  The  vision  was 
for  a  moment ;  the  fact  is  for  ever.  The  sun's  ray  was 
flashed  back  from  celestial  armour,  **  the  next  all  onre- 
fleeted  shone  *•  on  the  lonely  wastes  of  the  desert — ^but  the 
host  of  God  was  there  still.  The  transitory  appearance  of 
the  permanent  realities  is  a  revelation  to  us  as  truly  as  to 
the  patriarch  ;  and  though  no  angel  wings  may  winnow 
the  air  around  our  road,  nor  any  sworded  seraphim  be 
seen  on  our  commonplace  march,  we  too  have  all  the 
armies  of  Heaven  with  us,  if  we  tread  the  path  which 
God  has  marked  out,  and  in  our  weakness  and  trembling 
commit  ourselves  to  Him.  The  heavenly  warriors  die  not, 
and  hover  around  us  to-day,  excelling  in  the  strength  of 
their  immortal  youth,  and  as  ready  to  succour  us  as  they 
were  all  these  centuries  ago  to  guard  the  solitary  Jacob. 


202  MAHANAIM  :  THB  TWO  OAMPB. 

Better  still,  the  "^  Captain  of  the  Lord's  hoflt"  Is  ^'eome 
up**  to  be  our  defence,  and  onr  faith  has  not  only  to 
behold  the  many  ministering  spirits  sent  forth  to  minister 
to  us,  but  One  mightier  than  they.  Whose  commands  they 
all  obey,  and  Who  Himself  is  the  companion  of  our 
Bolitnde  and  the  shield  of  our  defencelessness.  It  was 
blessed  that  Jacob  should  be  met  by  the  many  angels  of 
God.  It  is  infinitely  more  blessed  that  "  the  Angel  of  the 
Lord  ** — ^the  One  who  is  more  than  the  many — *'  encampeth 
round  about  them  that  fear  Him,  and  delivereth  them. 

The  postscript  of  the  last  letter  which  Gordon  sent  from 
Khartoum  closed  with  the  words,  **  The  hosts  are  with  me — 
Mahanaim."  Were  they  not,  even  though  death  was  near  ? 
Was  that  sublime  faith  a  mistake — the  vision  an  optical 
delusion  ?  No,  for  their  ranks  are  arrayed  around  God's 
children  to  keep  them  from  all  evil  while  He  wills  that 
they  should  live,  and  their  chariots  of  fire  and  horses  of 
fire  are  sent  to  bear  them  to  Heaven  whon  H«  willi  that 
they  should  diet 


THE   CONTRASTED  AIMS  AND   PARALLEL 

METHODS   OF   THE   WORLD  AND 

THE  CHRISTIAN. 


6ERM0K  XVn. 


OONTBASTED  AIMS  AND  PABALLBL  MBTHODB  Of 
THB  WORLD  AND  THB  OHBISTIAB. 

"Thtj  do  h  to  obUin  0  oorrnptible  erown,  bat  wo  on  Inoorraptiblo.'*— 1  OoBi  tL  Mn 

The  imagery  which  the  Apostle  employe  here  is  drawn 
from  objects  very  familiar  to  the  Corinthian  Christians.  A 
Bet  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  games  of  Greece  was  cele- 
brated every  third  year  within  sight  of  their  city.  Every 
one  of  them  had  no  doubt  seen  the  stadium,  or  racecourse, 
of  which  he  speaks  in  the  previous  verse,  with  its  white 
marble  seats  crowded  with  eager  spectators.  They  had  all 
witnessed  the  racers  straining  every  muscle  to  be  first  at 
the  goal ;  and  had  marked  the  contrast  between  the  many 
who  failed,  and  slunk  unnoticed  into  the  crowd,  and  the 
one  victor,  received  with  a  roar  of  welcoming  applause. 
They  knew  the  severe  and  long-protracted  discipline  of 
abstinence  and  exercise  which  was  needful  to  give  even  a 
chance  of  success,  and  they  understood  what  was  the  prize 
of  all  this  effort — a  twist  of  pine-leaves  from  the  grove 
round  the  temple  of  the  god.  So  all  these  points  the 
Apostle  seizes  in  order  to  enforce  the  lesson  of  self-denial 
which  he  has  been  avowing  as  the  law  of  his  own  life,  and 
deuree  to  press  upon  his  brethren  of  Corinth.    For  Ihal 


206   CONTRASTED  AIMS  AND  PARALLEL  METHODS 

pnrpose  he  snggests  a  parallel  and  a  contrast.  The  aims 
are  wonderfully  unlike,  but  the  methods  are  identical. 
What  were  all  the  discipline  and  toil  and  pains  of  the 
racer  for  ?  A  garland  that  would  wither  before  the  brows 
had  become  accustomed  to  it.  "  They  do  it  to  obtain  a 
corruptible  crown,  but  we  an  incorruptible."  And  yet 
their  effort  for  an  unworthy  end  is  worthy  to  be  our  pat- 
tern and  our  stimulus  for  the  loftiest  end  that  men  can  set 
before  them.  So  this  poor  runner  is  both  a  beacon  and  an 
example — a  beacon  in  regard  of  what  he  chooses  for  his 
object ;  an  example  in  regard  of  the  noble  and  the  wise 
way  by  which  he  pursues  it.  We  have,  then,  here  a  double 
contrast — ^the  world's  sad  folly  in  its  aims,  and  noble  wis- 
dom in  its  methods,  and  the  Christian's  wisdom  in  his 
tims,  and  alas  I  too  often  folly  in  his  means.  •*  They  do 
it  to  obtain  a  corruptible  crown."  Do  we  do  it  to  obtain 
an  incorruptible  ? 

I. — Here  we  get,  in  a  symbolical  and  picturesque  fashion, 
the  preaching  of  the  world's  sad  folly  in  its  ordinary 
aims. 

The  wreath  of  oak,  or  ivy,  or  laurel,  or  parsley,  or  Tine 
which  was  twined  round  the  browB  of  the  victors  in  the 
Tarious  games  of  Greece  was,  of  course,  not  what  he  ran 
for.  It  was  only  a  symbol,  and  its  entirely  valueless  char- 
acter made  it  all  the  more  valuable.  Far  better  that  it 
ahould  be  a  twist  of  greenery  that  would  soon  fade,  than 
silver  cups  or  anything  of  material  worth.  For  it  expressed 
simply  honour,  pre-eminence,  the  joy  of  success,  reputation. 
In  front  of  the  temple  that  presided  over  the  games  with 
■which  the  Corinthians  were  familiar,  was  a  long  avenue, 
on  either  side  of  which  stood  ranged  in  order  the  white 
marble  portrait-statues  of  the  victors  ;  and  the  hope  that 
flushed  many  a  man's  face  was  that  his  image,  with  his 
name  on  its  pedestal,  should  stand  there,  i^nd  where  are 
they  all  t    Their  names  forgotten,  the  marble  likenesses 


OF  THB  WORLD  AND  THE  OHRISTIAW,  207 

gone,  buried  beneath  the  green-sward,  over  which  ihb 
shepherd  to-day  pastures  his  quiet  flocks. 

"  So  p&flsoth,  in  the  paMing  of  a  day, 
Of  mortal  life,  (he  leaf,  the  hod,  the  lower." 

And  all  our  pursuits,  unless  they  be  linked  consciously 
and  by  repeated  effort  with  eternity  and  with  God,  are  as 
evanescent  and  as  disproportioned  to  the  magnitude  and 
the  capacities  of  us,  the  doers  of  them,  as  was  the  wreath 
for  which  months  of  discipline,  and  moments  of  almost 
superhuman  effort,  were  considered  but  a  small  price  to 
pay. 

Oh,  dear  friends,  surely  I  need  not  press  upon  you  this 
lesson,  that  it  is  folly  for  men  to  take  as  the  (»bject  of 
their  lives  and  the  aim  of  their  efforts,  the  things  that  are 
shorter  lived  than  the  men  that  work  ior  them.  Surely, 
surely,  it  is  folly  that  we  should  lavish  our  energies  and 
render  our  hearts  unto  that  which  makes  for  itself  wings 
and  passes  away.  Business,  providing  for  a  family,  the 
acquisition  of  some  more  or  less  modest  competency,  these 
are  the  things  that  necessarily  demand  a  great  deal  of  your 
attention  and  interest.  You  may  so  use  them  as  that, 
whilst  they  are  the  nearer  aims,  the  remoter  aims  of  grow- 
ing like  your  Master  and  fit  for  the  inheritance  may  be 
reached  through  them  all,  and  then  they  are  blessed.  Or 
you  may  so  use  them  as  that  you  build  up  of  your  earthly 
duties  a  thick,  opaque  barrier  between  you  and  your 
eternal  wealth.  In  the  one  case  you  are  wise,  in  the  other 
case  your  epitaph  will  be  "  Thou  fool  !*• 

Do  any  of  you  remember  the  homely  words  in  which  a 
poet  has  put  the  lesson  for  us  :  "What  good  came  of  it  at 
last  ?"  asks  the  little  child,  when  the  old  man  is  telling 
him  of  the  great  victory.  "  What  good  came  of  it  at  last  f* 
That  is  the  question  that  shivers  into  insignificance,  and 
convicts  of  something  not  much  different  from  insanity, 
much  of  all  our  lives,  and  the  whole  of  gome  of  our  liTea. 


208      OONTBASTBD  AIMS  AJn>  PAttAJULEL  METHODS 

"  They  do  it  to  obtain  a  corrnptible  crown," — ^two  penny- 
worth of  parsley  twisted  into  a  wreath  that  will  be  brown 
to-morrow  morning.  It  is  a  symbol  of  what  some  of  you 
are  living  for. 

II. — Now,  in  the  next  place,  take  the  other  side  of  that 
contrast,  and  consider  the  Christian's  wisdom  in  his  ainx. 

"  But  we  an  incorruptible,"  says  Paul.  Of  course,  the 
crown  that  is  spoken  about  here  is  not  the  kingly  crown, 
but  the  garland  of  the  victorious  athlete.  It  is  interesting 
to  notice  the  various  instances  of  the  employment  of  this 
figure  in  the  New  Testament,  and  the  various  aspects  of 
the  future  blessedness  which  are  represented  by  it. 

For  example,  the  same  Apostle  tells  us,  in  almost  the 
last  words  of  his  which  have  been  left  to  us  : — *'  Hence- 
forth there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteoiisnessy 
That  there  he  i»  thinking  of  the  crown  of  the  victorious 
wrestler,  coming  wearied  and  yet  conqueror  out  of  the 
arena,  is  clear  from  the  previous  words,  **  I  have  fought  a 
good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course  ;"  where  both  the 
pugilistic  contest  and  the  race  are  applied  as  emblems  of 
Paul's  career.  Then  again  we  read  in  the  Epistle  of 
James : — **  Blessed  is  the  man  that  endureth  temptation, 
for  when  he  is  tried  he  shall  receive  the  crown  of  life 
which  the  Lord  hath  promised.**  Then  again  we  read  in 
one  of  Peter*s  letters,  that  the  elders  who  do  their  work 
faithfully  and  manfully  shall  receive  at  last  from  the 
Chief  Shepherd  **a  crown  of  glory  which  fadeth  not 
away.'*  And  then  we  read  in  John's  Revelation,  in  the 
message  to  the  persecuted  Church  at  Smyrna,  **  Be  thou 
faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown  of  life,^ 

Possibly  there  may  be  a  reference  to  the  kingly  crown 
in  this  promise  from  the  Apocalypse,  as  royal  dignities 
are  Tery  prominent  in  the  promises  of  that  book,  and 
thoie  who  wear  the  crowns  are,  in  another  of  its  visioni, 
on  thrones.    If  so,  there  will  be  a  threefold  alio* 


OF  THH   WORLD  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN.  200 

§lon  in  the  emblem.  It  will  stand  for  a  symbol  of 
dominion,  of  victory,  and  of  festivity.  It  is  the  crown 
of  the  king,  or  the  wreath  of  the  victor,  or  the 
garlandt  on  the  temples  of  the  gnests  at  the  feast. 
It  is  a  crown  of  life  that  is,  it  consists  of  life.  The  trne 
life  of  the  spirit  which  partakes  of  the  perfect  glorified 
immortal  life  of  Jesus  is  the  crown.  It  is  a  crown  con- 
sisting of  glory.  The  radiant  lustre  of  a  manifestly 
God-glorified  spirit  is  the  crown.  The  garland  that 
encircles  the  calm  brows  of  those  who  sit  at  the  feast  is 
no  mere  external  adornment,  but  the  lustre  of  a  perfect 
character  which  is  the  outcome  of  a  Christ-given  life.  It 
is  the  crown  of  righteousness,  that  is  to  say,  the  crown 
which  is,  and  can  be  given  only  to  righteousness.  Only 
pure  brows  can  wear  it.  It  would  bum  like  a  circlet  of 
fire  if  it  were  placed  on  other  heads.  Righteousness  is 
the  condition  of  obtaining  it.  The  condition  is  further 
expressed  in  other  forms  in  the  other  passages  quoted, 
according  to  which,  those  "  who  love  His  appearing,"  or 
those  who  "endure  temptation"  and  "love  Him,"  or 
those  who  do  the  task  of  their  calling  in  the  Church,  or 
those  who  are  "  faithful  unto  death,"  receive  the  crown, 
that  18  to  say — the  fundamental  condition  is  love  to  Christ, 
that  love  which  is  the  effect  of  faith  and  leads  to  loving  His 
appearing,  and  the  subsidiary  conditions  which  follow  on 
that  love  are  faithful  endurance,  patient  service,  and  stren- 
uous effort  in  the  Christian  cause.  They  who  possess  thes« 
graces  shall  at  the  last  receive,  as  the  prophet  has  it,  "  a 
garland  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  th« 
garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness."  And  these, 
thus  attired  and  anointed  and  crowned  for  the  banquet, 
are  led  in  to  sit  for  ever  at  the  marriage-snpper  of  th« 
Lamb. 

This,  then,  brethren,  is  the   aim  which  the  Apostlt 
would  propose,  and  which  he  more  than  proposes,  which 

P 


210   OONTBASTED  AIMS  Al^D  PARALLEL  METHODS 

he  asserts  to  be  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  aim  of  every  person 
that  has  the  right  to  call  himself  a  Christian.  Now,  there 
is  a  sharp  test  for  you.  **  They  do  it  to  obtain  a  corrupt- 
ible crown,  but  wo  **  What  is  to  be  filled  in  ?  We 
"  do  the  same  thing'*  to  obtain  an  incorruptible  crown.  Is 
that  your  aim,  Christian  people  ?  Do  you  live  to  win  the 
laurel  wreath  of  the  victor,  and  that  your  brows  may  be 
twined  with  the  garland  of  the  feast?  Have  you 
triumphed  over  the  nearer  and  lower  objects,  and  are  you 
living  for  the  remoter  and  the  nobler  ?  If  you  are  not, 
what  business  have  you  to  call  yourself  a  Christian  ?  Men 
are  classified  by  their  aims  in  life.  This  is  the  description 
of  Christ's  followers :  **  We  do  it  to  obtain  an  incorrupt- 
ible." Does  that  far-off  wreath,  extended  from  the  hand 
of  the  Judge  Who  sits  at  the  winning-post,  draw  your 
eyes  ?  Does  it  mould  your  life  ?  Do  you  shape  your 
conduct  in  such  a  fashion  as  to  secure  it  ?  Does  it  gleam 
before  you  with  a  brightoess  that  makes  all  other  and 
nearer  objects  insignificant  and  pale  ?  Put  the  questions 
to  yourselves.  If  you  can  answer  them  i&  the  affirmative 
you  are  a  happy  man. 

And  more  than  that,  if  you  can  thus  answer,  if  it  is  true 
about  you  that  you  do  own  this  as  your  formative  motive— 
"  to  obtain  an  incorruptible,"— then  all  these  nearer  object, 
will  become  even  more  blessed,  and  your  whole  life  nobler 
than  it  otherwise  would  be. 

The  green  of  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Alps  never  looks 
so  vivid,  their  flowers  never  so  lovely  or  so  bright  as  when 
the  eye  rises  from  the  grass  to  the  snow,  and  from  the 
flowers  to  the  glaciers.  And  so  all  the  lower  reaches  and 
levels  of  life  look  fairer,  brighter,  and  the  flowerets,  that 
His  providence  sheds  along  across  the  grass  like  a  smiles 
look  the  brighter  and  smell  the  sweeter  because  our  eyes 
pass  beyond  them,  and  fix  on  the  great  white  Throne  that 
towers  above  them  alL    If  you  want  life  to  be  blessed  and 


OF  THB  WORLD  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN.  211 

noble,  snbordinate  the  present  to  the  future,  the  material 
to  the  spiritual,  all  the  corruptible  crowns  to  the  crown 
incorruptible.  For  the  remoter  our  object  the  nobler  our 
lives. 

III. — And  now  again,  passing  by  much  that  I  wanted 
to  say  about  this  matter,  let,  us  turn  to  the  other  side  of 
the  double  contrast  that  is  here.  Look  at  the  world's  noble 
wisdom  in  the  choice  of  its  means. 

This  poor  racer,  of  whom  my  text  speaks,  had  ten 
months  of  hard  abstinence  and  exercise  before  there  was 
even  a  chance  for  him  to  succeed  in  the  conflict.  And 
then  there  was  a  short  spurt  of  tremendous  effort  and  ex- 
penditure of  energy  before  he  came  in  at  the  goal.  These 
things,  both  of  them,  self-denial  habitually,  and  spurts  of 
energy  up  to  the  very  edge  of  physical  endurance — are 
conditions  of  success  in  the  world,  and  they  are  both  of 
them  noble  and  beautiful.  No  matter  for  what  the  man 
is  doing  it,  however  low  may  be  the  aim,  the  act  of  self- 
denial  and  the  fact  of  effort  are  always  better  than  the 
rust  of  self-indulgence  and  of  languid  indolence.  It  is 
better  for  him  to  be  braced  into  self-control,  and  stirred 
into  energetic  activity,  than  to  be  rotting  like  a  fat  weed 
in  the  pestilential  marshes  of  self-indulgence,  and  losing 
all  pith  and  manhood  in  the  languid  dissolution  of  indo- 
lence. 

And  so,  following  out  the  Apostle's  lead  here,  one  can- 
not but  look  with  admiration,  and  with  a  recognition  of 
the  beauty  and  the  nobleness  of  the  spectacle,  at  a  great 
deal  of  the  toil  and  effort  that  the  world  puts  forth,  even 
for  its  own  shabby  ends.  Why,  a  man  will  spend  twenty 
times  as  long  in  making  himself  a  good  conjurer,  who  can 
balance  feathers  and  twirl  plates  upon  a  table,  as  some  of 
OS  ever  spent  in  trying  to  make  ourselves  good  Christians. 
The  hard  toil  that  all  these  people  who  contribute  to  the 
public  amusement  go  through  in  order  to  secure  eminence 

PS 


212       00NTSA8TED  AIMS  4lSD  PARALLEL  METHODS 

in  their  profesBion,  onght  to  bring  the  blnsh  of  shame  to 
the  cheek  of  a  great  many  of  m.  The  world  teaches  ns  a 
lesson,  as  Paul  set  the  lesson  of  these  Corinthian  races 
before  Corinthian  Christians.  Think  of  the  months  of 
abstinence  that  any  athlete,  or  horse-jockey,  or  pedestrian 
will  go  through  here  in  England,  and  set  by  the  side  of 
that  the  sort  of  easy,  languid,  half-and-half  pursuit  of  their 
great  aim  which  characterises,  alas  I  such  a  melancholy 
number  of  people  that  profess  and  call  themselves  Chris- 
tians. 

lY. — ^That  brings  me  to  the  last  side  of  the  contrast  here  ; 
and  that  is  the  folly  of  so  many  professing  Christians  in 
their  way  of  pursuing  their  aims. 

A  languid  runner  had  no  chance,  and  he  knew  it.  The 
phrase  was  almost  a  contradiction  in  terms.  A  racer  that 
would  not  go  into  training  would  lose  his  breath  in  the 
first  five  minutes,  and  might  as  well  drop  out  of  the  race. 
What  about  a  languid  Christian  ?  Is  that  a  more  con- 
sistent idea?  What  about  a  man  that  sets  out  on  the 
Divine  life,  and  exercises  no  self-restraint  or  discipline 
over  himself  ?  Will  he  get  on  any  better  ?  If  I  let  my 
desire  and  affections  go  flowing  vagrantly  over  the  whole 
low  plain  of  material  things  they  will  be  like  a  river  that 
is  lost  in  the  swamp  ;  there  will  not  be  force  enough  left 
in  the  channel  to  make  a  scour  and  to  run,  and  the  stream 
will  never  get  to  the  ocean.  If  I  set  out  on  the  race  with- 
out having  girt  up  my  loins  by  honest,  resolute  self- 
restraint,  self-denial,  and  self-crucifixion  when  need  be, 
what  can  I  expect  but  that  before  I  have  run  half-a-dozen 
yards  my  ungirt  robes  will  trip  me  up  or  get  caught  in  the 
thorns  and  keep  me  back  ?  My  brother  I  No  Christian 
progress  is  possible  to-day,  or  ever  was,  or  ever  will  be 
except  on  the  old-fashioned  conditions  : — "  Take  up  your 
cross,  and  deny  yourself,  and  then  come  after  Me.** 
LMum  from  the  world  this  lesson,  that  if  a  m^n  wants  to 


Of  THB  WOBLD  AND  THB  0HBI8TIAM.  213 

■ncceed  in  any  eourse  He  mnst  elint  ont  other,  even 
legitimate  ones.  And  do  you  put  the  lesson  in  practice  in 
reference  to  your  Chrietian  life. 

And  then  further,  the  runner  that  did  not  put  all  his 
powers  into  the  five  mtnutes  of  his  race  had  no  chance  of 
coming  in  at  the  goal.  And  there  is  no  different  law 
in  regard  to  Christian  people.  Up  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
capacity  mnst  be  the  effort  A  languid  Christian  who 
does  not  strive  with  all  his  powers  to  live  soberly, 
righteously,  godly,  and  that  with  increasing  completeness, 
will  never  make  anything  worth  the  making  of  hia 
Christian  career.  It  will  be  as  in  the  old  atory,— the 
golden  apple  flung  down  before  the  racer  will  slacken  his 
footsteps,  and  he  will  fall  behind  in  the  race.  You  must 
put  all  your  strength  into  the  work  if  you  mean  to  run  the 
race  that  is  set  before  you,  and  to  come  at  last  to  the  goaL 

God  be  thanked  !  We  are  crowned  not  because  we  are 
good  but  because  Christ  died.  But  the  teaching  of  my  text, 
that  a  Christian  man  must  labour  to  win  the  prize,  is  by  no 
means  contradictory  to,  but  complementary  and  confirm- 
atory of  the  earlier  truth,  that  a  Christian  man  is  crowned, 
as  he  is  accepted,  '*  not  for  works  of  righteousness  which 
he  hath  done,"  bnt  out  of  God*s  infinite  mercy  in  Jesus 
Christ.  Do  not  yon  pervert,  as  some  are  tempted  to  do» 
the  great  truth,  that  we  are  saved  by  Christ's  death,  and 
that  Heaven  is  all  a  free  gift  from  God,  into  the  great 
falsehood  that  an  idle  Christian  can  excuse  himself  for 
his  indolence  by  pleading  his  "  faith,"  or  can  be  crowned, 
**  unless  he  strive  according  to  the  laws  "  of  the  arena  ;  of 
which  the  first  is  this: — **  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  thou  shalt  be  saved  ** ;  and  the  second  is : — ^  Work 
out  yonr  own  lalyation  wiUi  fear  and  trembling.* 


CHAMBERS   OF  IMAGERY. 


SERMON  XVIJL 


OHAHBBBS  OV  IMAGSBT. 

'  TlMB  miA  h»  unto  me,  Bon  of  ICui,  h»it  tboa  Men  what  the  andenti  of  fh«  Hmue 
tl  I«Ml  do  tn  th§  dark,  every  man  in  the  obamben  of  hiiimagery  ?*— Bzuc  tUL  It. 

This  is  part  of  a  vision  which  came  to  the  prophet  in  his 
captivity.  He  is  carried  away  in  imagination  from  hit 
home  amongst  the  exiles  in  the  East  to  the  Temple  of 
Jerusalem.  There  he  sees  in  one  dreadful  series  repre- 
sentations of  all  the  forms  of  idolatry  to  which  the  hand- 
ful that  were  left  in  the  land  were  cleaving.  There  meets 
him  on  the  threshold  of  the  court  "  the  image  of  jealousy," 
the  generalised  expression  for  the  aggregate  of  idolatries 
which  had  stirred  the  anger  of  the  Divine  husband  of  the 
nation.  Then  he  sees  within  the  Temple  three  groups 
representing  the  idolatries  of  three  different  lands.  First, 
those  with  whom  my  text  is  concerned,  who,  in  some 
underground  room,  vaulted  and  windowless,  were  bowing 
down  before  painted  animal  forms  upon  the  walls. 
Probably  they  were  the  representatives  of  Egyptian 
worship,  for  the  description  of  their  temple  might  have 
been  taken  out  of  any  book  of  travels  in  Egypt  in  the 
present  day.  It  is  only  an  ideal  picture  that  is  represented 
to  Eiekiel,  and  not  a  real  fact.  It  is  not  at  all  probable 
that  all  these  various  forms  of  idolatry  were  found  at  any 


218  CHAMBERS  OF  IMAGERY. 

time  within  the  Temple  itself.    And  the  whole  cast  of 

the  vision  snggests  that  it  is  an  ideal  picture,  and  not 
reality,  with  which  we  have  to  do.  Hence  the  number  of 
these  idolaters  was  seventy — the  successors  of  the  seventy 
whom  Moses  led  up  to  Sinai  to  see  the  God  of  Israel  I 
And  now  here  they  are  grovelling  before  brute  forms 
painted  on  the  walls  in  a  hole  in  the  dark.  Their  leader 
bears  a  name  which  might  have  startled  them  in  their 
apostasy,  and  choked  their  prayers  in  their  throats,  for 
Jaazan-iah  means  "the  Lord  hears."  Each  man  has  a 
censer  in  his  hand — self -consecrated  priests  of  self-chosen 
deities.  Shrouded  in  obscurity,  they  pleased  themselves 
with  the  ancient  lie,  "  The  Lord  sees  not ;  He  hath  for- 
saken the  earth."  And  then,  into  that  Sanhedrim  of 
apostates  there  comes,  all  unknown  to  them,  the  light  of 
God's  presence  ;  and  the  eye  of  the  prophet  marks  their 
eyil. 

I  have  nothing  to  do  here  with  the  other  groups  which 
Ezekiel  saw  in  his  vision.  The  next  set  were  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  women  of  Israel,  who,  false  at  once  to 
their  womanhood  and  to  their  God,  are  taking  part  in  the 
nameless  obscenities  and  abominations  of  the  worship  of 
the  Syrian  Adonis.  And  the  next,  who  from  their  numbers 
seem  to  be  intended  to  stand  for  the  representatives  of 
the  priesthood,  as  the  former  were  of  the  whole  people, 
represent  tne  worshippers  who  had  fallen  under  the 
fascinations  of  a  widespread  Eastern  idolatry,  and  with 
their  backs  to  the  house  of  the  Lord  are  bowing  before 
the  rising  sun. 

All  these  false  faiths  got  on  very  well  together.  Their 
worshippers  had  no  quarrel  with  each  other.  Polytheism, 
by  its  very  nature  and  the  necessity  of  its  being,  is 
tolerant.  All  its  rabble  of  gods  have  a  mutual  under- 
standing, and  are  banded  together  against  the  only  One, 
that  says,  "Thou  shalt  have  none  other  gods  beside  Me." 


OHAMBERS  OF  IMAGBBT.  219 

But  now,  I  take  this  vision  in  a  meaning  which  the 
prophet  had  no  intention  to  put  on  it.  I  do  not  often  do 
that  with  my  texts,  and  when  I  do  I  like  to  confess 
frankly  that  I  am  doing  it.  So  I  take  the  words  now 
as  a  kind  of  symbol  which  may  help  to  put  into  a 
picturesque  and  more  striking  form  some  very  familiar 
and  homely  truths.  Look  at  that  dark-painted  chamber 
that  we  have  all  of  us  got  in  our  hearts  ;  at  the  idolatries 
that  goon  there,  and  at  the  flashing  of  the  sudden  light  of 
God  Who  marks,  into  the  midst  of  the  idolatry.  "  Hast 
thou  seen  what  the  ancients  of  the  children  of  Israel  do 
in  the  dark,  each  man  in  the  chambers  of  his  imagery  ? " 

I. — Think  of  the  dark  and  painted  chamber  which  we 
all  of  UB  carry  in  our  hearts. 

Every  man  is  a  mystery  to  himself  as  to  his  fellows. 
With  reverence,  we  may  say  of  each  other  as  we  say  of 
God — "  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  Him." 
After  all  the  manifestations  of  a  life,  we  remain  enigmas 
to  one  another  and  mysteries  to  ourselves.  For  every  man 
is  no  fixed  somewhat,  but  a  growing  personality,  with 
dormant  possibilities  of  good  and  evil  lying  in  him, 
which  up  to  the  very  last  moment  of  his  life  may  flame 
up  altogether  unexpected  and  astonishing  developments. 
Therefore  we  have  all  to  feel  that  after  all  self-examination 
there  lie  awful  depths  within  us  which  we  have  not 
fathomed  ;  and  after  all  our  knowledge  of  one  another  we 
yet  do  see  but  the  surface,  and  each  soul  dwells  alone. 

There  is  in  every  heart  a  dark  chamber.  Oh  I  brethren, 
there  are  very,  very  few  of  us  that  dare  tell  all  our  thoughts 
and  show  our  inmost  selves  to  our  dearest  ones.  The  most 
silvery  lake  that  lies  sleeping  amidst  beauty,  itself  the 
very  fairest  spot  of  all,  when  drained  off  shows  ugly  ooze 
and  filthy  mud,  and  all  manner  of  creeping  abominations 
in  the  slime.  I  wonder  what  we  should  see  if  our  hearts 
were,  so  to  speak,  drained  off,  and  the  very  bottom  layer 


220  OHAMBBRS  OF  IMAGERY. 

of  every  thing  brought  into  the  light.  Do  yon  think  yon 
would  stand  it  ?  Well,  then,  go  to  God  and  ask  Him  to 
keep  yon  from  nnconscious  sins.  Go  to  Him  and  ask 
Him  to  root  out  of  you  the  mischiefs  that  yon  do  not 
know  are  there,  and  live  humbly  and  self-distrustfnlly, 
and  feel  that  your  only  strength  is  :  **  Hold  Thou  me  up, 
and  I  shall  be  saved.^  **  Hast  thou  leen  what  they  do  in 
the  dark  f* 

Still  further,  we  may  take  another  part  of  this  deiorip- 
tion  with  possibly  permissible  violence  as  a  symbol  of 
another  characteristic  of  our  inward  nature.  The  walls  oi: 
that  chamber  were  all  painted  with  animal  forms,  to  whieh 
these  men  were  bowing  down.  By  our  memory,  and  by 
that  marvellous  faculty  that  people  call  the  imagination, 
and  by  our  desires,  we  are  for  ever  painting  the  walls  of 
the  inmost  chambers  of  our  hearts  with  such  pictures. 
That  is  an  awful  power  which  we  possess,  and,  alas  I  too 
often  use  for  foul  idolatries. 

I  do  not  dwell  upon  that,  but  I  wish  to  drop  one  very 
earnest  caution  and  beseeching  entreaty,  especially  to 
the  younger  members  of  my  congregation  now.  Yon, 
young  men  and  women,  especially  you  young  men,  mind 
what  you  paint  upon  those  mystic  walls  !  Foul  things, 
as  my  text  says,  "  creeping  things  and  abominable  beasts," 
only  too  many  of  you  are  tracing  there.  Take  care,  for 
these  figures  are  ineffaceable.  No  repentance  will  obliter- 
ate them.  I  do  not  know  whether  even  Heaven  can  blot 
them  out.  What  you  love,  what  you  desire,  what  you 
think  about,  you  are  photographing  on  the  walls  of  your 
immortal  soul.  And  just  as  to-day,  thousands  of  years 
after  the  artists  have  been  gathered  to  the  dust,  we  may  go 
into  Egyptian  temples  and  see  the  figures  on  their  walls, 
in  all  the  freshness  of  their  first  colouring,  as  if  the  painter 
had  but  laid  down  his  pencil  a  moment  ago  ;  so,  on  your 
hearts,  youthful  evils,  the  sins  of  your  boyhood,  the  pru- 


0HAMBER3  OF  IMAOBRT.  S21 

riences  of  your  earliest  days,  may  live  in  ugly  shapes,  that 
no  tears  and  no  repentance  will  ever  "wipe  out.  Nothing 
can  do  away  with  "  the  marks  of  that  which  once  hath 
been."  What  are  you  painting  on  the  chambers  of  imagery 
in  your  hearts  ?  Obscenity,  foul  things,  mean  things,  low 
things  ?  Is  that  mystic  shrine  within  you  painted  with 
such  figures  as  were  laid  bare  in  some  chambers  in  Pom- 
peii, where  the  excavators  had  to  cover  up  the  pictures 
because  they  were  so  foul  ?  Or,  is  it  like  the  cells  in  the 
convent  of  San  Marco  at  Florence,  where  Fra  Angelico's 
holy  and  sweet  genius  has  left  on  the  bare  walls,  to  be 
looked  at,  as  he  fancied,  only  by  one  devout  brother  in 
each  cell,  angel  imaginings,  and  noble,  pure  celestial  faces 
th^t  calm  and  hallow  those  who  gaze  upon  them  ?  What 
are  yon  doing,  my  brother,  in  the  dark,  in  your  chambers  of 
imagery? 

II. — Now  look  with  me  briefly,  at  the  second  thought 
that  I  draw  from  this  symbol,— the  idolatries  of  the  dark 
chamber. 

All  these  seventy  grey-bearded  elders  that  were  bowing 
there  before  the  bestial  gods  which  they  had  portrayed, 
had,  no  doubt,  often  stood  in  the  courts  of  the  Temple 
and  there  made  prayers  to  the  God  of  Israel,  with  broad 
phylacteries,  to  be  seen  of  men.  Their  true  worship  was 
the  worship  in  the  dark.  The  other  was  conscious  or  un- 
conscious hypocrisy.  And  the  very  chamber  in  which 
they  were  gathered,  according  to  the  ideal  representation 
of  our  text,  was  a  chamber  in,  and  therefore  partaking  of 
the  consecration  of,  the  Temple.  So  their  worship  was 
doubly  criminal,  in  that  it  was  sacrilege  as  well  as  idolatry. 
Both  things  are  true  about  us. 

A  man's  true  worship  is  not  the  worship  which  he  per- 
forms in  the  public  temple,  but  that  which  he  offers  down 
in  that  little  private  chapel,  where  nobody  goes  but  himself. 
Worahip  ii  the  attribution  of  supreme  excellence  to,  and 


222  CHAMBERS  OF  DIAGERT. 

the  entire  dependence  of  the  heart  npon,  a  certain  person. 
And  the  people  or  the  things  to  which  a  man  attribnteg 
the  highest  excellence,  and  on  which  he  hangs  his  happi- 
ness and  well-being,  these  be  his  gods,  no  matter  what 
his  outward  profession  is.  You  can  find  out  what  these 
are  for  you,  if  you  will  ask  yourself,  and  honestly  answer 
one  or  two  questions.  What  is  that  I  want  most  ?  What 
is  it  which  makes  my  ideal  of  happiness  ?  What  is 
that  which  I  feel  that  I  should  be  desperate  without  ? 
What  do  I  think  about  most  naturally  and  spontaneously, 
when  the  spring  is  taken  off,  and  my  thoughts  are 
allowed  to  go  as  they  will  ?  And  if  the  answer  to  none 
of  these  questions  is  "  God  I"  then  I  do  not  know  why 
you  should  call  yourself  a  worshipper  of  God's.  It  is 
of  no  avail  that  we  pray  in  the  temple,  if  we  have 
the  dark,  subterranean  pit,  where  our  true  adoration  is 
rendered. 

Oh !  dear  brethren,  I  am  afraid  there  are  a  great  many 
of  us  nominal  Christians,  connected  with  Christian 
churches,  posing  before  men  as  orthodox  religionists,  who 
keep  this  private  chapel  where  we  do  our  devotion  to  an 
idol  and  not  to  God.  If  our  real  gods  could  be  made  visi- 
ble, what  a  pantheon  they  would  make  I  All  the  foul 
forms  painted  on  that  underground  cell  would  be  paral- 
leled in  the  creeping  things,  whit;h  crawl  along  the  low 
earth  and  never  soar  nor  even  stand  erect,  and  in  the  vile, 
bestial  forms  of  passion  to  which  some  of  us  really  bow 
down.  Honour,  wealth,  literary  or  other  distinction,  the 
sweet  sanctities  of  human  love  dishonoured  and  profaned 
by  being  exalted  to  the  place  which  Divine  love  should 
hold,  ease,  family,  animal  appetites,  lust,  drink — these  are 
the  gods  of  some  of  us.  Bear  with  my  poor  words  and 
ask  yourselves,  not  whom  do  you  worship  before  the  eye 
of  men,  but  who  is  the  God  to  whom  in  your  inmost 
heart  you  bow  down?    What  do  you  do  in  the  darkF 


OHAMBBBS  OF  IMAOEBT.  223 

Tluil  If  the  qneetion.    Whom  do  yon  worship  there  f    The 
ether  thing  is  not  worship  at  all. 

Do  not  forget  that  all  ench  diversion  of  snpreme  love 
tnd  dependence  from  God  alone  is  like  the  sin  of  these 
men  in  our  text,  in  that  it  is  sacrilege.  They  had  taken 
a  chamber  in  the  very  Temple,  and  turned  that  into  a 
temple  of  the  false  gods.  Whom  is  your  heart  made  to 
enshrine  ?  Why  I  every  stone,  if  I  may  so  say,  of  the 
fabric  of  onr  being  bears  marked  upon  that  it  was  laid 
in  order  to  make  a  dwelling-place  for  God.  Whom  are 
you  meant  to  worship,  by  the  witness  of  the  very  consti- 
tution of  your  nature  and  make  of  your  spirits  ?  Is  there 
anybody  but  One  who  is  worthy  to  receive  the  priceless 
gift  of  human  love  absolute  and  entire  ?  Is  there  any  but 
One  to  whom  it  is  aught  but  degradation  and  blasphemy  for 
a  man  to  bow  down  ?  Is  there  any  being  but  One  that 
can  still  the  tumult  of  my  spirit,  and  satisfy  the  immortal 
yearnings  of  my  soul  ?  We  were  made  for  God,  and 
whensoever  we  turn  the  hopes,  the  desires,  the  affections, 
the  obedience,  and  that  which  is  the  root  of  them  all,  the 
eonfidence  that  ought  to  fix  and  fasten  upon  Him,  to 
other  creatures,  we  are  guilty  not  only  of  idolatry  but  of 
lacrilege.  We  commit  the  sin  of  which  that  wild  reveller 
in  Babylon  was  guilty,  when,  at  his  great  feast,  in  the 
very  madness  of  his  presumption  he  bade  them  bring 
forth  the  sacred  vessels  from  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem ; 
**  and  the  king  and  his  princes  and  his  concubines  drank 
in  them  and  praised  the  gods."  So  we  take  the  sacred 
chalice  of  the  human  heart,  on  which  there  is  marked  the 
sign  manual  of  Heaven,  claiming  it  for  God's,  and  fill  it 
with  the  spiced  and  drugged  draught  of  our  own  sen- 
sualities and  evils,  and  pour  out  libations  to  vain  and  false 
gods.  Brethren  I  Render  unto  Him  that  which  is  His ; 
and  see  even  upon  the  walls  scrabbled  all  over  with  the 
deformities  that  we  have  painted  there,  lingering  traces. 


224  CHAMBERS  OP  IMAGERY. 

like  those  of  some  dropping  fresco  in  a  roofleis  Italian 
church,  which  suggest  the  serene  and  perfect  beauty  of 
the  image  of  the  One  Whose  likeness  was  orij^inally  traced 
there,  and  for  Whose  worship  it  was  all  built. 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  look  at  the  sudden  crashing  in 
upon  the  cowering  worshippers  of  the  revealing  light. 

Apparently  the  picture  of  my  text  suggests  that  these 
elders  knew  not  the  eyes  that  were  looking  upon  them. 
They  were  hugging  themselves  in  the  conceit,  **  the  Lord 
seeth  not ;  the  Lord  hath  forsaken  the  earth.**  And  all 
the  while,  all  unknown,  God  and  His  prophet  stand  in 
the  doorway  and  see  it  all.  Not  a  finger  is  lifted,  not  a 
sign  to  the  foolish  worshippers  of  His  presence  and 
inspection,  but  in  stem  silence  He  records  and  remem- 
bers. 

And  does  that  need  much  bending  to  make  it  an  im- 
pressive form  of  putting  a  solemn  truth  ?  There  are 
plenty  of  us — alas  !  alas  I  that  it  should  be  so — to  whom 
it  is  the  least  welcome  of  all  thoughts  that  there  in  the 
doorway  stand  God  and  His  Word.  Why  should  it  be, 
my  brother,  that  the  properly  blessed  thought  of  a  Divine 
•ye  resting  upon  you  should  be  to  you  like  the  thought 
of  a  policeman's  buirs-eye  to  a  thief  ?  Why  should  it 
not  be  rather  the  sweetest  and  the  most  calming  and 
strength-giving  of  all  convictions — "Thou  God  seesi 
me "  ?  The  little  child  runs  about  the  lawn  perfectly 
happy  as  long  as  she  knows  that  her  mother  is  watching 
her  from  the  window.  And  it  ought  to  be  sweet  and 
blessed  to  each  of  us  to  know  that  there  is  no  darkness 
where  a  Father^s  eye  comes  not^  But  oh  t  to  the  men  that 
stand  before  bestial  idols  and  have  turned  their  backs 
on  the  beauty  of  the  one  true  God,  the  only  possibility 
of  composure  is  that  they  shall  hug  themselves  in  th« 
▼ain  delusion : — **  The  Lord  seeth  not** 

I  beseech  yon,  dear  friends,  do  not  think  of  Hii  eye  m 


0HAMBBB8  OF  IMA6BRT.  225 

ihe  prisoner  in  a  cell  thinks  of  the  pin-hole  somewhere 
in  the  wall,  through  which  a  jailer's  jealous  inspection  may 
at  any  moment  be  glaring  in  upon  him,  but  think  of  Him 
your  Brother,  Who  "knew  what  was  in  man,"  and  Who 
knows  each  man,  and  see  in  Christ  the  all-knowing  God- 
hood  that  loves  yet  better  than  it  knows,  and  beholds  the 
hidden  evils  of  men's  hearts,  in  order  that  it  may  cleanse 
and  forgive  all  which  it  beholds. 

One  day  a  light  will  flash  in  upon  all  the  dark  cells. 
We  must  all  be  manifest  before  the  judgment  seat  of 
Christ.  Do  you  like  that  thought  ?  Can  you  stand  it  ? 
Are  you  ready  for  it  ?  My  friend  !  let  Jesus  Christ  come 
to  you  with  His  light.  Let  Him  come  into  the  dark 
comers  of  your  hearts.  Cast  all  your  sinfulness,  known 
and  unknovm,  upon  Him  that  died  on  the  Cross  for  every 
soul  of  man,  and  He  will  come  ;  and  His  light,  streaming 
into  your  hearts,  like  the  sunbeam  upon  foul  garments, 
will  cleanse  and  bleach  them  white  by  its  shining  upon 
them.  Let  Him  come  into  your  hearts  by  your  lowly 
penitence,  by  your  humble  faith,  and  all  these  vile  shapes 
that  you  have  painted  on  its  walls  will,  like  phosphor- 
escent pictures  in  the  daytime,  pale  and  disappear  when 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  with  healing  on  His  beams, 
floods  your  soul,  leavic^  no  part  dark,  and  turning  all 
into  a  Temple  of  the  loving  God. 


FORMS  VERSUS  CHARACTER. 


SERMON  XIX. 


F0EM8  VERSUS  OHARACTBa 

**  Olrefomeislon  Is  nothing,  and  ondrctimciiioii  is  nothing,  bat  the  keeping  of  Ihe 
•ommandments  of  God."— 1  Cor.  tIL  19. 

"  For  in  Jesni  Ghiiflt  neither  circamcision  araileth  anything,  nor  nnoircomdaioa, 
but  faith  which  worketh  by  loTe."— Gal.  t.  fl. 

"  For  n«ither  ia  circtuncision  anything,  nor  oncironmoiaion,  bat  ft  new  ereatnre."— 
Gal.  tL  15.    (R.V.) 

The  great  controversy  which  embittered  so  much  of 
Paul's  life,  and  marred  so  much  of  his  activity,  turned 
upon  the  question  whether  a  heathen  man  could  come 
into  the  Church  simply  by  the  door  of  faith,  or  whether 
he  must  also  go  through  the  gate  of  circumcision.  We  aU 
know  how  Paul  answered  the  question.  Time,  which 
settles  all  controversies,  has  settled  that  one  so  thoroughly 
that  it  is  impossible  to  revive  any  kind  of  interest  in  it ; 
and  it  may  seem  to  be  a  pure  waste  of  time  to  talk  about 
it.  Bnt  the  principles  that  fought  then  are  eternal,  though 
the  forms  in  which  they  manifest  themselves  vary  with 
%^  ery  varying  age. 

The  Ritualist — using  that  word  in  its  broadest  sense — 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Puritan  on  the  other,  represent 
permanent  tendencies  of  human  nature  ;  and  we  find  to- 
day the  old  foes  with  new  faces.  These  three  passages 
that  I  have  read  are  Paul's  deliverance  on  the  question 


230  FORMS  VBRSUS  OHARACTBR. 

of  the  comparative  valne  of  external  rites  and  spiritaal 
character.  They  are  remarkable  both  for  the  identity  in 
the  former  part  of  each  and  for  the  variety  in  the  latter. 
In  all  the  three  cases  he  a£&rms,  almost  in  the  same  lan- 
guage, that  "  circumcision  is  nothing,  and  uncircumcision 
is  nothing,"  that  the  Ritualist's  rite  and  the  Puritan's  pro- 
test are  equally  insignificant  in  comparison  with  higher 
things.  And  then  he  varies  the  statement  of  what  the 
higher  things  are,  in  a  very  remarkable  and  instructive 
fashion.  The  "  keeping  of  the  commandments  of  God," 
says  one  of  the  texts,  is  the  all-important  matter.  Then, 
as  it  were,  he  pierces  deeper,  and  in  another  of  the 
texts  (I  take  the  liberty  of  varying  their  order)  pro- 
nounces that  "a  new  creature"  is  the  all-important 
thing.  And  then  he  pierces  still  deeper  to  the  bottom 
of  all,  in  the  third  text,  and  says  the  all-important  thing 
is  "  faith  which  worketh  by  love." 

I  think  I  shall  best  bring  out  the  force  of  these  words  by 
dealing  first  with  that  emphatic  threefold  proclamation  of     y 
the  nullity  of  all  externalism  ;  and  then  with  the  singular 
variations  in  the  triple  statement  of  what  is  essential,  viz., 
spiritual  conduct  and  character. 

I.— First,  the  emphatic  proclamation  of  the  nullity  of 
outward  rites. 

"  Circumcision  is  nothing,  and  uncircumcision  is  no- 
thing," say  two  texts.  "  Circumcision  availeth  nothing, 
and  uncircumcision  availeth  nothing,"  says  the  other. 
It  neither  is  anything  nor  does  anything.  Did  Paul 
say  that  because  circumcision  was  a  Jewish  rite  ? 
No.  As  I  believe,  he  said  it  because  it  was  a  rite; 
and  because  he  had  learned  that  the  one  thing 
needful  was  spiritual  character,  and  that  no  external 
ceremonial  of  any  sort  could  produce  that.  I  think  we 
are  perfectly  warranted  in  taking  this  principle  of  my  ; 
text,  and  \n  extending  it  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Jewish    v 


FORMS  VERSUS  CHARAOTBA.  S31 

rlt«  abont  which  Paul  was  speaking.  For  if  yon  remem- 
ber, he  speaks  about  baptism,  in  the  first  chapter  of  the 
first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  in  a  precisely  similar  tone 
and  for  precisely  the  same  reason,  when  he  says,  in  effect, 
"I  baptised  Crispns  and  Gains  and  the  household  of 
Stephanas,  and  I  think  these  are  all.  I  am  not  quite 
sure.  I  do  not  keep  any  kind  of  record  of  inch  things  ; 
God  did  not  send  me  to  baptise,  He  sent  me  to  preach 
the  Gospel." 

The  thing  that  produced  the  spiritual  result  was  not 
the  rite,  but  the  truth,  and  therefore  he  felt  that  his 
function  was  to  preach  the  truth  and  leave  the  rite  to  be 
administered  by  others.  Therefore  we  can  extend  the 
principle  here  to  all  extemalisms  of  worship,  in  all 
forms,  in  all  churches,  and  say  that  in  comparison  with 
the  essentials  of  an  inward  Christianity  they  are  nothing 
And  they  do  nothing. 

/jhey  have  their  value.  As  long  as  we  are  here  on 
earth,  living  in  the  flesh,  we  must  have  outward  forms 
and  symbolical  rites.  J  It  is  in  Heaven  that  the  seer 
"  saw  no  temple."  Our  sense-bound  nature  requires,  and 
thankfully  avails  itself  of,  the  help  of  external  rites  and 
ceremonials  to  lift  us  up  towards  the  Object  of  our  devo- 
tion. '^'^A  man  prays  all  the  better  if  he  bow  his  head, 
shut  his  eyes,  and  bend  his  knees.  Forms  do  help  us  to 
the  realisation  of  the^realities  and  the  truths  which  they 
express  and  embody. '  Music  may  waft  our  souls  to  the 
heavens,  and  pictures  may  stir  deep  thoughts.  That  is 
the  simple  principle  on  which  the  value  of  all  external 
aids  to  devotion  depends.  They  may  be  helps  towards 
the  appreciation  of  Divine  truth,  and  to  the  suffusing  of 
the  heart  with  devout  emotions  which  may  lead  to  build- 
iQg  up  a  holy  character. 

£  There  is  a  worth,  therefore — an  auxiliary  and  sub- 
ordinate worth,  in  these  things,  and  in  that  respect  they 


23S  rOBMB  VBBSnS  OHARAGTBm. 

are  fwt  nothing,  nor  do  they  **  avail  nothing."  Bnt  then 
all  external  rites  tend  to  nsnrp  more  than  belongs  to 
them,  and  in  onr  weakness  we  are  apt  to  cleave  to  them, 
and  instead  of  nsing  them  as  means  to  lift  ns  higher,  to 
stay  in  them,  and  as  a  great  many  of  ns  do,  to  mistake 
the  mere  gratification  of  taste  and  the  excitement  of  the 
sensibilities  for  worship.  A  bit  of  ftained  glass  may  be 
glowing  with  angel-forms  and  pictured  saints,  but  it 
always  keeps  some  of  the  light  out,  and  it  always  hinden 
us  from  seeing  through  it  And  all  external  worship 
and  form  have  so  strong  a  tendency  to  usurp  more  than 
belongs  to  them,  and  to  drag  us  down  to  their  own  level, 
even  whilst  we  think  that  we  are  praying,  that  I  believe 
the  wisest  man  will  try  to  pare  down  the  externals  of  his 
worship  to  the  lowest  possible  point.  If  there  be  as 
mueh  body  ai  will  keep  a  soul  in,  as  much  form  as  will 
embody  the  spirit,  that  is  all  that  w«  want.  What  if 
more  is  dangeroui. 

All  form  in  worship  is  like  fire,  it  is  a  good  servant 
but  it  is  a  bad  master,  and  it  needs  to  be  kept  very  rigidly 
in  subordination,  or  else  the  spirituality  of  Christian 
worship  vanishes  before  men  know ;  and  they  are  left 
with  their  dead  forms  which  are  only  evils — crutches 
that  make  people  limp  by  the  very  act  of  using 
them. 

Now,  my  dear  friends,  when  that  has  happened,  when 
men  begin  to  say,  as  the  people  in  PauFs  time  were 
saying  about  circumcision,  and  as  people  are  saying  in 
this  day  about  Christian  rites,  that  they  are  necessary, 
then  it  is  needful  to  take  up  Paul's  ground  and  to  say, 
"  No  I  they  are  nothing  I"  They  are  useful  in  a  certain 
place,  but  if  you  make  them  obligatory,  if  you  make 
them  essential,  if  you  say  that  grace  is  miraculously 
conveyed  through  them,  then  it  is  needful  that  we  should 
raise   a   strong   note  of  protestation,  and  declare  their 


fOBMB  VERSUS  CHABAOTBB.  233 

Absolute  nallity  for  the  highest  purpose,  that  of  making 
that  spiritaal  character  which  alone  is  essential. 

And  I  believe  that  this  strange  recrudescence — to  use  a 
modern  word — of  ceremonialism  and  aesthetic  worship 
which  we  see  all  round  about  us,  not  only  in  the  ranks  of 
the  Episcopal  Church,  but  amongst  Nonconformists,  who 
are  sighing  for  a  less  bare  service,  and  here  and  there  are 
turning  their  chapels  into  concert-rooms,  and  instead  of 
preaching  the  Qospel  are  having  •*  Services  of  Song  "  and 
the  like— that  all  this  makes  it  as  needful  to-day  as  ever 
it  was  to  say  to  men :  "  Forms  are  not  worship.  Rites 
may  crush  the  spirit.  Men  may  yield  to  the  sensuous 
impressions  which  they  produce,  and  be  lapped  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  ffisthetio  emotion,  without  any  real  devotion.** 

Such  externals  are  only  worth  anything  if  they  make 
us  grasp  more  firmly  with  our  understandings  and  feel 
more  profoundly  with  our  hearts,  the  great  truths  of  the 
Gospel.  If  they  do  that,  they  help  ;  if  they  are  not  doing 
that,  they  hinder,  and  are  to  be  fought  against.  And  so 
we  have  again  to  proclaim  to-day,  as  Paul  did,  "  Circum- 
cision is  nothing,**  **but  the  keeping  of  the  command- 
ments  of  God." 

Then  notice  with  what  remarkable  fairness  and  boldness 
and  breadth  the  Apostle  here  adds  that  other  clause  : "  and 
uncircumcision  is  nothing."  It  is  a  very  hard  thing 
for  a  man  whose  life  has  been  spent  in  fighting  against 
an  error  not  to  exaggerate  the  value  of  his  protest.  It  is 
a  very  hard  thing  for  a  man  who  has  been  delivered  from 
the  dependence  upon  fonns  not  to  fancy  that  his  form- 
lessness ii  what  the  other  people  think  that  their  forms  are. 
The  Puritan  who  does  not  believe  that  a  man  can  be  a 
good  man  because  he  is  a  Ritualist  or  a  Roman  Catholic, 
is  committing  the  very  same  error  as  the  Ritualist  or  the 
Roman  Catholic  who  does  not  believe  that  the  Puritan 
can  be  a  Christian  unless  he  has  been  **  chriitened.**    Tha 


234  FORMS  VERSUS  CHARACTBm. 

two  people  are  exactly  the  same,  only  the  one  has  hold  of 
the  stick  at  one  end  and  the  other  at  the  other.  There 
may  be  as  much  idolatry  in  superstitious  reliance  upon 
the  bare  worship  as  in  the  advocacy  of  the  ornate  ;  and 
many  a  Nonconformist  who  fancies  that  he  has  "  never 
bowed  the  knee  to  Baal"  is  as  true  an  idol-worshipper  in 
his  superstitious  abhorrence  of  the  ritualism  that  he  sees 
in  other  communities,  as  are  the  men  who  trust  in  it  the 
most. 

It  is  a  large  attainment  In  Christian  character  to  be 
able  to  say  with  Paul,  "  Circumcision  is  nothing,  and  my 
own  favourite  point  of  uncircumcision  is  nothing  either. 
Neither  the  one  side  nor  the  other  touches  the  essentials." 

II.^Now  let  us  look  at  the  threefold  variety  of  the 
designation  of  these  essentials  here. 

In  onr  first  text  from  the  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  we 
read,  "Circumcision  is  nothing,  and  uncircumcision  is 
nothing,  but  the  keeping  of  the  commandments  of  God.* 
If  we  finished  the  sentence  it  would  be,  "  but  the  keeping 
of  the  commandments  of  God  is  everything." 

And  by  that  "  keeping  the  commandments,"  of  course, 
the  Apostle  does  not  mean  merely  external  obedience. 
He  means  something  far  deeper  than  that,  which  I 
pnt  into  this  plain  word.  The  one  essential  of  a  Chris- 
tian life  is  the  conformity  of  the  will  with  God's — not 
the  external  obedience  merely,  but  the  entire  surrender 
and  the  submission  of  my  will  to  the  will  of  my  Father 
in  Heaven.  That  is  the  all-important  thing  ;  that  is  what 
God  wants  ;  that  is  the  end  of  all  rites  and  ceremonies  ;  that 
is  the  end  of  all  revelation  and  of  all  utterances  of  the 
Divine  heart.  The  Bible,  Christ's  mission.  His  passion 
and  death,  the  gift  of  His  Divine  Spirit,  and  every  part  of 
the  Divine  dealings  in  providence,  all  converge  upon  this 
one  aim  and  goal.  For  this  purpose  the  Father  worketh 
hitherto,  and  Christ  works,  that  man's  will  may  yield  and 


rOBMS  VEBSUS  CHARAOTBB.  235 

bow  itself  wholly  and  happily  and  lovingly  to  the  great 
Infinite  will  of  the  Father  in  Heaven. 

Brethren  I  that  is  the  perfection  of  a  man's  nature,  when 
his  will  fits  on  to  God's  like  one  of  Euclid's  triangles 
superimposed  upon  another,  and  line  for  line  coincides 
When  his  will  allows  a  free  passage  to  the  will  of  God, 
without  resistance  or  deflection,  as  light  travels  through 
transparent  glass  ;  when  his  will  responds  to  the  touch  of 
God's  finger  upon  the  keys,  like  the  telegraphic  needle  to 
the  operator's  hand,  then  man  has  attained  all  that  God 
and  religion  can  do  for  him,  all  that  his  nature  is  capable 
of ;  and  far  beneath  his  feet  may  be  the  ladders  of  cere- 
monies and  forms  and  outward  acts  by  which  he  climbed 
to  that  serene  and  blessed  height,  •*  Circumcision  is  no- 
thing, and  uncircumcision  is  nothing,  but  the  keeping  of 
God's  commandments  is  everything." 

That  submission  of  will  is  the  sum  and  the  test  of  your 
Christianity.  Your  Christianity  does  not  consist  only  in  a 
mere  something  which  you  call  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  It 
does  not  consist  in  emotions,  however  deep  and  blessed 
and  genuine  they  may  be.  It  does  not  consist  in  the 
acceptance  of  a  creed.  All  these  are  means  to  an  end. 
They  are  meant  to  drive  the  wheel  of  life,  to  build  up 
character,  to  make  your  deepest  wish  to  be,  "  Father  ! 
not  my  will,  but  Thine,  be  done."  In  the  measure  in 
which  that  is  your  heart's  desire,  and  not  one  hair's 
breadth  further,  have  you  a  right  to  call  yourself  a  Chris- 
tian. 

But,  then,  I  can  fancy  a  man  saying :  "  It  is  all  very 
well  to  talk  about  bowing  the  will  in  this  fashion ;  how 
can  I  do  that  ?  "  Well,  let  us  take  our  second  text— the 
third  in  the  order  of  their  occurrence— "  For  neither 
circumcision  is  anything,  nor  uncircumcision,  but  a  new 
creature."  That  is  to  say,  if  we  are  ever  to  keep  the 
will  of  God  we  most  be  made  over  again.     Ay  I  we 


FOBMS  VSBSUS  GHARAarBB. 

znnBtf    Our  own  consciences  tell  ub  that ;  the  history  of 
all  the  efforts  that  ever  we  have  made — and  I  snppoie  all 
of  nB  have  made  some  now  and  then,  more  or  less  earnest 
and  more  or  less  persistent — tells  ns  that  ther«  needs  to 
be  a  stronger  hand  than  ours  to  come  into  the  fight  if  it  is 
ever  to  be  won  by  ns.     There  is  nothing  more  heartless 
and  more  impotent  than  to  preach,  "  Bow  your  wills  to 
God,  and  then  you  will  be  happy  ;  bow  yonr  wills  to  God, 
and  then  you  will  be  good."    If  that  is  all  the  preacher 
has  to  say,  his  powerless  words  will  but  provoke  tho 
answer,  "We  cannot.    Tell  the   leopard    to    change  his 
spots,  or  the  Ethiopian  his  skin,  as  soon  as  tell  a  man  to 
reduce  this  revolted  kingdom  within  him  to  obedience, 
and  to  bow  his  will  to  the  will  of  God.    We  cannot  do 
it.'*    But,  brethren,  in  that  word,  •*  a  new  creature,"  lies  a 
promise  from  God  ;  for  a  creature  implies  a  creator.    "  It 
is  He  that  hatii  made  us,  and  not  we  ourselves."    The  very 
heart  of  what  Christ  has  to  offer  us  is  the  gift  of  His  own 
life  to  dwell  in  our  hearts,  and  by  its  mighty  energy  to 
make  us  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death  which  binds 
our  wills.    We  may  have  our  spirits  moulded  into  His 
likeness,  and  new  tastes,  and  new  desires,  and  new  capaci- 
tiee  infused  into  us,  so  as  that  we  shall  not  be  left  with 
our  own  poor  powers  to  try  and  force  ourselves  into  obedi- 
ence to  God*s  will,  but  that  submission  and  holiness,  and 
love  that  keeps  the  commandments  of  God,  will  spring  up 
in  onr  renewed  spirits  as  their  natural  product  and  growth. 
Oh !  you  men  and  women  who  have  been  honestly  trying, 
half  your  lifetime,  to  make  yourselves  what  you  know 
God  wants  you  to  be,  and  who  are  obliged  to  confess  that 
you  have  failed,  hearken  to  the  message :  **  If  any  man 
be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature,  old  things  are  passed 
away."    The  one  thing  needful  is  keeping  the  command- 
ments of  God,  and  the  only  way  by  which  we  can  keep 
the  oommandments  of  God  is  that  we  should  be  formed 


rORMS  VBBSUS  OHABACTBB.  837 

agmin  into  the  likenesi  of  Him  of  Whom  alone  it  if  trae 
that  "  He  did  always  the  things  that  pleased"  God. 

And  so  we  come  to  the  last  of  these  great  texts  :  "  In 
Christ  Jesus,  neither  circumcision  availeth  anything,  nor 
oncircnmcision,  but  faith  which  worketh  by  love."  That 
Is  to  say,  if  we  are  to  be  made  over  again,  we  must  have 
faith  in  Christ  Jesus.  We  have  got  to  the  root  now,  so  far 
as  we  are  concerned.  We  must  keep  the  commandments 
of  God  ;  if  we  are  to  keep  the  commandments  we  must  be 
made  over  again,  and  if  our  hearts  ask  how  can  we  receive 
that  new  creating  power  into  our  lives,  the  aniwer  is,  by 
"  faith  which  worketh  by  love." 

Paul  did  not  believe  that  external  rites  could  make  men 
partakers  of  a  new  nature,  but  he  believed  that  if  a  man 
would  trust  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  life  of  that  Christ  would 
flow  into  his  opened  heart,  and  a  new  spirit  and  nature 
would  be  born  in  him.  And,  therefore,  his  triple  require- 
ments come  all  down  to  this  one,  so  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, as  the  beginning,  and  the  condition  of  the  other 
two.  "Neither  circumcision  does  anything,  nornncircum- 
cision,  but  faith  which  worketh  by  love,"  does  everything. 
He  that  trusts  Christ  opens  his  heart  to  Christ,  Who  comes 
with  His  new-creating  Spirit,  and  makes  us  willing  in 
the  day  of  His  power  to  keep  His  commandments. 

But  faith  leads  us  to  obedience  in  yet  another  fashion, 
than  this  opening  of  the  door  of  the  heart  for  the  entrance 
of  the  new-creating  Spirit.  It  leads  to  it  in  the  manner 
which  is  expressed  by  the  words  of  our  text,  "  worketh 
by  love."  Faith  shows  itself  living,  because  it  leads  us 
to  love,  and  through  love  it  produces  its  effects  upon  con- 
duct. 

Two  things  are  implied  in  this  designation  of  faith.  If 
you  trust  Christ  you  will  love  Him.  That  is  plain  enough. 
And  you  will  not  love  Him  unless  you  trust  Him.  Though 
it  lies  wide  of  my  present  purpose,  let  ns  take  this  lessou 


^38  FORMS  VERSUS  CHARAOTBB. 

in  pawing.  Ton  cannot  work  yourself  np  into  a  spasm  or 
paroxysm  of  religions  emotion  and  love  by  resolntion  or 
by  effort.  All  that  you  can  do  is  to  go  and  look  at  the 
Master  and  get  near  Him,  and  that  will  warm  yon  up. 
You  can  love  if  you  trust.  Your  trust  will  make  you  love  ; 
unless  you  trust  you  will  never  love  Him. 

The  second  thing  implied  is,  that  if  you  love  you  will 
obey.  That  is  plain  enough.  The  keeping  of  the  com- 
mandments will  be  easy  where  there  is  love  in  the  heart 
The  will  will  bow  where  there  is  love  in  the  heart.  Love 
is  the  only  fire  that  is  hot  enough  to  melt  the  iron  ob- 
stinacy of  a  creature's  will.  The  will  cannot  be  driven. 
8trike  it  with  violence  and  it  stiffens  ;  touch  it  gently  and 
it  yields.  If  you  try  to  put  an  iron  collar  upon  the  will, 
like  the  demoniac  in  the  Gospels,  the  touch  of  the  ap- 
parent restraint  drives  it  into  fury,  and  it  breaks  the 
bands  asunder.  Fasten  it  with  the  silken  leash  of  love, 
and  a  "  little  child"  can  lead  it.  So  faith  works  by  love, 
because  whom  we  trust  we  shall  love,  and  whom  we  love 
we  shall  obey. 

Therefore  we  have  got  to  the  root  now,  and  nothing  is 
needful  but  an  operative  faith,  out  of  which  will  come  all 
the  blessed  possession  of  a  transforming  spirit,  and  all  sub- 
limities and  noblenesses  of  an  obedient  and  submissive  will. 

My  brother  I  Paul  and  James  shake  hands  here.  There 
is  a  "  faith"  so  called,  which  does  not  work.  It  is  dead ! 
Let  me  beseech  you,  none  of  you  to  rely  upon  what  you 
choose  to  call  your  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  but  examine  it. 
Does  it  do  anything  ?  Does  it  help  you  to  be  like  Him  ? 
Does  it  open  your  hearts  for  His  Spirit  to  come  in  ? 
Does  it  fill  them  with  love  to  that  Master,  a  love  which 
proves  itself  by  obedience  ?  Plain  questions,  questions 
that  any  man  can  answer  ;  questions  that  go  to  the  root  of 
the  whole  matter.  If  your  faith  does  that,  it  ia  genuine  i 
if  it  doM  not,  it  is  not 


F0BM8  VERSUS  OHABAOTBR.  839 

And  do  not  tmst  either  to  forms  or  to  joni  freedom 
from  forms.  They  will  not  save  your  souls,  they  will  not 
make  you  more  Christ-like.  They  will  not  help  you  to 
pardon,  purity,  holiness,  blessedness.  In  these  respects 
neither  if  we  have  them  are  we  the  better,  nor  if  we 
have  them  not  are  we  the  worse.  If  you  are  trusting 
to  Christ,  and  by  that  faith  are  having  your  hearts 
moulded  and  made  over  again  into  all  holy  obedience, 
then  you  have  all  that  you  need.  Unless  you  have, 
though  you  partook  of  all  Christian  rites,  though  you 
believed  all  Christian  truth,  though  you  fought  against 
superstitious  reliance  on  forms,  you  have  not  the  one 
thing  needful,  for  "  in  Christ  Jesus  neither  circumcision 
availeth  anything,  nor  oncircomcision,  but  £&ith  which 
worketh  by  love." 


THE  THIRST   OF  THE   SOUL  AFTER  GOD 
AND   ITS  SATISFACTION  IN  GOD. 


8ERM0N  XX 


THE   THIRST  OP  THB  SOUL  AFTER  GOD  ABD  ITS 
SATISFACTION   IN  GOD. 

-O  Ood,  Tbon  art  my  God ;  early  will  I  seek  Thee  :  my  soal  thlrBteto„ft>r  ^%  ■? 
Sesh  lon.*8th  for  Thee  in  a  dry  and  thirsty  land,  where  no  water  is  • 

To  see  Thy  power  and  Thy  glory,  so  as  I  have  seen  Thee  in  the  sancttury 

Because  Thy  loyingtdndnesa  is  better  than  life,  my  lips  shall  praise  Theei 

Thus  will  I  bless  Thee  while  I  live :  I  will  lift  op  my  handi  in  Thy  name. 

My  soul  shaU  be  satiafled  m  witk  marrow  and  fatneaa ;  and  my  moath  ihall  pnlM 
Thee  with  Joyful  lipa ; 

When  I  remember  Thee  apon  my  b«d,  and  meditate  on  Thee  in  the  night  watches. 

Because  Thou  hast  been  my  help,  therefore  in  the  shadow  of  Thy  wingi  will  I 
rejoice. 

My  Boal  foUoweth  har4  afiti^  T^ee;  Thy  right  hand  npholdeth  ma. 

SotThoseHat  seek  after  my  soul,  to  destroy  it,  shall  go  into  the  lower  parti  of  kke 
earth. 

They  shall  fall  by  the  sword ;  they  shall  be  a  portion  for  foxes. 

Bat  the  king  shall  rejoice  in  Gk>d  ;  every  one  thai  sweareth  by  Him  shall  glory ;  tml 
the  month  of  them  tbat  speak  lies  shall  be  stopped."— PsA.'  IxilL  1-lL 

This  Psalm  contains  very  distinct  traces  of  the  circnm- 
Btances  under  which  it  sprang  up  in  the  Psalmist's  heart. 
He  is  an  exile,  in  a  dry  and  weary  land  ;  he  is  excluded 
from  the  sanctuary,  he  is  followed  by  enemies  that  seek 
his  life  ;  he  is  a  king.  All  these  points  confirm  the  accur- 
acy of  the  ancient  Jewish  heading  : — "  A  Psalm  of  David 
when  he  was  in  the  wilderness  of  Judah." 

Lin  that  arid  tract  which  stretches  along  the  wefiteni 
shore  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  thence  northward,  David  was 

B  2 


244  THE  THIRST  OF  THB  SOUL  AFTEB  GOD 

twice  during  his  adventurous  life,^once  during  the 
Sauline  persecution,  once  during  Absalom's  revolt.  It 
cannot  be  the  former  of  these  times  which  is  referred  to 
here,  because  the  Psalmist  was  not  then  a  king ;  it  mnst 
therefore  be  the  latter.  \ 

[That  was  the  darkest  hour  of  his  life.  His  favourite 
and  good-for-nothing  son  was  seeking  to  grasp  his 
sceptre ;  his  familiar  friend  in  whom  he^  trusted  had 
lifted  np  the  heel  against  himJl  He  knew  that  his  own 
sin  had  come  back  to  roost  with  him ;  and  so,  with  bleed- 
ing heart,  with  agonised  conscience,  with  crushed  spirit, 
he  bowed  himself,  and  meekly  and  penitently  accepted 
the  chastisement.  ^Therefore  it  was  sweetened  to  him ; 
and  this  Psalm,  with  its  passion  of  love  and  mystic 
rapture,  is  a  monument  for  us  of  how  his  sorrows  had 
brought  to  him  a  closer  nnion  with  God,  as  onr  sorrows 
may  do  for  us  t  like  some  treasure  washed  to  onr  feet  bj 
a  stormy  sea.;;^ 

Let  us  read  the  PSalm  over  together  and  try  to  feel  its 
force  as  the  utterance  of  a  soul  seeking  after  and  finding 
God,  I  think  the  key  to  its  arrangement  will  be  found 
in  the  threefold  recurrence  of  an  emphatic  word.  In 
the  first  verse  I  read,  "  My  soul  thirsteth  for  Thee  ;"  in  the 
fifth  verse,  "  My  soul  shall  be  satisfied ;"  in  the  eighth 
verse,  "My  soul  foUoweth  hard  after  Thee."  jTJiese 
three  points,  I  think,  are  the  turning  points  of  the 
Psalm,  and  they  show  us  the  soul  longing ;  the  longing 
soul  satisfied  ;  the  satisfied  soul  still  seeking.  Let  us  take, 
then,  these  three  thoughts,  and  look  at  them  as  the  centre- 
points  of  the  respective  portions  of  the  Psalm  to  whioh 
they  belong. 

I. — ^First,  then,  we  have  the  soul  longing  for  God. 

Now,  observe  that  this  longing  is  not  that  of  a  man  who 
haa  no  possession  of  God.  Rather  is  it  the  desire  of  a 
keaci  whitth  is  already  in  union  with  Him  for  a  closer 


AHD  ITS  aATISrAOTIOH  Dl  QOD.  S45 

anion ;  rather  is  it  the  tightening  of  the  grasp  with  which 
the  man  already  holds  his  Father  in  Heayen.  All  begins 
with  the  utterance  of  a  personal  appropriating  faith. 
"  0  God  I  Thou  art  my  God  I "  The  beginning  of  all 
personal  religion  is  when  I  am  conscious  of  a  personal 
relation  with  God  ;  when  I  feel  that  He  and  I  possess  each 
other  by  a  mutual  love ;  when  I  put  out  my  hand,  and 
humbly  but  confidently  claim  my  individual  portion 
in  the  world-wide  power  and  love.  A  Christian  is  he 
who  says,  "  He  loved  m^,  and  gave  Himself  iorme,'^  We 
must  individualise,  and  appropriate  as  our  very  own,  the 
promises  and  the  grace  that  belong  to  the  whole  world. 
"  0  God  !  Thou  art  my  God." 

And  then  upon  that  there  are  built  earnest  seeking, 
expressed  in  the  words  "  Early,"  that  is  to  say,  "  earnestly," 
**  will  I  seek  Thee,"  and  the  intensest  longing,  breathing  in 
the  pathetic  utterance,"  My  soul  thirsteth  for  Thee :  my  flesh 
longeth  for  Thee  in  a  dry  and  weary  land  where  no  water 
ii.'*  Notice  the  picturesque,  poetic  beauty  of  taking  David*i 
snrroundings  as  the  emblem  of  his  feelings.  Nature 
seems  to  reflect  his  mood.  He  looks  out  on  the  stony, 
monotonous,  bumt-up,  barren  country  about  him  ;  at  the 
cracks  in  the  soil  gaping  for  the  rain  which  comes  not ; 
and  he  u'ees  the  emblem  of  a  heart  yearning  after  God  and 
not  possessing  Him.  He  and  his  men  have  been  toiling, 
wearied,  across  the  **  the  burning  marl,"  looking  in  all 
the  torrent-beds  for  some  drop  of  water  to  cool  their 
parched  throats,  and  finding  none.  And  that  seems  to 
him  like  the  search  of  a  soul  after  a  far-off  God. 

And  then,  notice  what  it  is,  or  rather  Whom  it  is  that 
the  Psalmist  longs  for.  "  My  soul  thirsts  for  Thee.*^  All 
souls  do.  We  are  all  crying  out  for  the  living  God,  only 
the  difference  between  us  is  that  some  of  us  know  what  it 
is  that  we  want,  and  that  some  of  us  do  not.  Blessed  are 
they  who  can  lay :  **  Thou  art  mj  God" ;  And  who  can 


246  THB  THIBST  OF  THB  SOUL  AFTER  GOD 

add  :  "  My  soul  thirsteth  for  Thee^^  in  Whom,  and  In 
Whom  only,  is  the  fountain  at  which  we  can  all  slake  our 
thirst  and  be  satisfied. 

Notice  the  intensity  of  the  desire.  Think  of  the  pictnre 
that  rises  from  these  graphic  words.  Here  is  the  caravan 
toiling  through  the  desert ;  men's  lips  are  black  with  thirst, 
their  parched  tongues  lolling  from  their  mouths ;  a  film 
comes  over  their  glazing  eyes,  their  steps  totter,  their 
heads  throb.  Far  away  yonder  is  a  stunted  tree  which 
tells  of  water  near  it.  How  they  plunge  their  faces  into 
the  black  mud  when  they  come  to  it,  and  with  what  a 
fierce  passion  they  satisfy  their  cravings  I 

There  is  no  such  overmastering  appetite  as  thirst.  Is  It 
the  least  like  your  desire  after  God  ?  Can  anybody  say 
that  these  words  of  my  text  are  an  honest  description  of 
the  ordinary  experience  of  ordinary  Christians  ?  "  My 
soul  thirsteth  for  God  ;'"  cried  this  seeker  after  Him,  and 
the  longing  seems  to  have  afifected  even  his  bodily  health. 
Is  that  or  anything  like  it  true,  about  you,  brethren? 
What  sort  of  Christians  are  we  if  it  is  not  ? 

And  notice  when  it  was  that  this  man  thus  longed.  It 
was  in  the  midst  of  his  sorrow.  Even  then  the  thing  that 
he  wanted  most  was  not  restoration  to  Jerusalem,  or  the 
defeat  of  his  enemies,  but  union  with  God.  Oh  I  that  is  a 
test  of  faith,  and  one  which  very  little  of  our  faith  could 
stand,  that  even  when  we  are  ringed  about  by  calamities 
that  seem  to  crush  us,  what  we  long  for  most  is  not  the 
removal  of  the  sorrow  but  the  presence  of  our  Father. 
Good  men  are  driven  to  God  by  the  stress  of  tempests,  and 
ordinary  and  bad  men  are  generally  driven  away  from 
Him.  What  does  your  sorrow  do  for  you,  friend  ?  Does 
it  make  you  writhe  in  impatience,  does  it  make  you  mur- 
mur sullenly  against  His  imposition  of  it,  or  does  it  make 
you  feel  that  now  in  the  stress  and  agony  there  is  nothing 
that  you  can  grasp  and  hold  to  but  Him,  and  Him  alone  f 


AVD  ITS  SATISFACTION  US  QOD.  247 

And  io  in  the  hour  of  darkness  and  need  is  your  prayer, 
in  its  deepest  meaning,  not  "  Take  away  Thy  heavy  hand 
from  me,"  but  "  Give  me  more  of  Thyself,  that  I  may  bear 
Thy  hand,  however  heavy  its  pressure"? 

Still  looking  at  this  first  portion  of  our  Psalm,  ot  which 
that  desire,  intense  and  ardent,  is  the  keynote,  I  notice 
that  this  longing,  though  it  be  struck  out  by  sorrow,  is 
not  forced  upon  him  for  the  first  time  by  sorrow.  The 
second  verse  of  our  Psalm  might  be  more  accurately  ren- 
dered with  the  transposition  of  the  two  clauses,  somewhat 
in  this  fashion  : — "  So  have  I  gazed  upon  Thee  in  the 
sanctuary,  to  see  Thy  power  and  Thy  glory."  That  is  to 
say,  in  like  manner  as  in  his  sorrows  and  in  the  wilderness 
he  is  conscious  of  this  desire  after  God,  so  does  he  re- 
member that  amidst  the  sanctities  of  the  Tabernacle  and 
the  joyfal  services  and  sacrifices  of  its  ritual  worship  he 
looked  through  the  forms  to  Him  that  shone  in  them,  and 
in  them  beheld  His  power  and  His  glory.  So  the  longing 
that  springs  in  his  heart  is  an  old  longing.  He  remembers 
past  times  when  it  has  been  with  him,  and  his  days  of 
sorrow  are  not  the  first  days  in  which  he  has  been  driven 
to  say  : — "  Come  Thou  and  help  me."  He  can  remember 
glad,  peaceful  moments  of  communion,  and  these  are 
homogeneous  and  of  a  piece  with  his  religious  contempla- 
tions in  his  hours  of  sorrow. 

Ah  1  brother  1  that  life  is  but  a  poor,  fragmentary  one 
which  seeks  God  by  fits  and  starts  ;  and  that  seeking  after 
God  is  but  a  half-hearted  and  partial  one  which  is  only 
experienced  in  the  moments  of  pain  and  grief.  It  is  well 
to  cry  for  Him  in  the  wilderness,  but  it  is  not  well  that  it 
should  only  be  the  wilderness  in  which  we  cry  for  Him. 
It  is  well  when  darkness  and  disaster  teach  us  our  need  of 
Him  ;  but  it  is  not  well  when  we  require  the  darkness  and 
the  disaster  to  teach  us  our  need. 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  that  is  but  a  poor,  fragmentary 


248  THB  THIRST  OF  THB  SOUL  AFrBB  GOD 

life,  and  that  religion  is  bnt  a  very  incomplete  and  insin- 
cere one  which  is  more  productive  of  raptures  in  the  sane- 
tuary  than  of  seeking  after  God  in  the  wilderness.  There 
are  plenty  of  Christian  people  who  have  a  great  deal  more 
conscionsness  of  God*B  presence  in  the  idle  emotions  of  a 
chnrch  or  a  chapel  than  in  the  strenuous  efforts  of  daily 
life.  Both  things  separately  are  maimed  and  miserable  ; 
and  both  must  be  put  together — the  communion  in  the 
sanctuary  and  the  communion  in  the  wilderness  ;  seeking 
after  Him  in  the  sanctities  of  worship,  and  seeking  after 
Him  in  the  prose  of  daily  life — if  ever  the  worship  of  the 
sanctuary  or  the  prose  of  daily  life  are  lo  be  brightened 
with  His  presence. 

Then,  still  further,  this  longing  is  animated  by  a  pro- 
found consciousness  that  God  is  best.  "  Because  Thy 
lovingkindness  is  better  than  life.**  Life  is  good  mainly 
as  the  field  upon  which  God^s  lovingkindness  may  be 
manifested  and  grasped.  It  is  like  the  white  sheet  on 
which  the  beam  of  light  is  thrown,  worth  nothing  in 
itself,  worth  everything  as  the  medium  for  the  manifesta- 
tion of  that  lustrous  light.  It  is  like  a  painted  window — 
only  a  poor  bit  of  glass  till  the  sunshine  gleams  behind 
it,  and  then  it  flashes  up  into  rubies  and  purple  and  gold. 
Life  is  best  when  through  life  there  filters  or  flashes  on  us 
the  brightness  of  the  lovingkindness  of  the  Lord.  And  all 
real  religion  includes  in  it  a  calm,  deliberate,  fixed  prefer- 
ence of  God  to  life  itself.  Does  your  religion  include  that  ? 
Can  you  say,  **  It  were  wise  and  it  were  blessed  to  die,  to 
get  more  of  God  into  my  soul"?  If  not,  our  longing, 
which  is  the  very  language  of  the  Spirit  in  our  hearts, 
has  to  be  much  intensified  ere  it  reaches  its  fitting 
height. 

And  then,  still  further,  this  longing  is  accompanied 
with  a  firm  resolve  of  continuance.  "  Thus  will  I  bless 
Thee  while  I  live."    **  Thus'* — ^as  I  am  doing  now  in  the 


AVD  ITB  SATISFACTION  IH  QOD.  Zi9 

midit  of  my  longing—*'  I  will  lift  up  my  htnda  in  Thy 
name.**  So  mnch,  theiif  for  the  first  portion  of  th« 
Psalm. 

IL— Now  imm  for  a  moment  to  the  second  portion, 
which  is  Inclnded  in  the  next  three  versei,  where  we  have 
the  longing  sonl  satisfied.  *'  My  Bonl  shall  be  satisfied  as 
with  marrow  and  fatness.** 

Notice,  now,  how  very  beautiful  that  immediate  turn 
in  the  Psalmist's  feelings  is.     The  fruition  of  God  is 
contemporaneous  with   the  desire  after  God.    The  one 
moment,  **  My  bouI  thirsteth" ;  the  next  moment,  **  My 
soul  is  satisfied."     As  in  the  wilderness  when  the  rain 
comes  down,  and  in  a  couple  of  days  what  was  baked 
earth  is  flowery  meadow,  and  all  the  torrent-beds  where 
the  white  stones  glistened  ghastly  in  the  heat  are  foaming 
with  rushing  water,  and  fringed  with  budding  willows ;  so 
in  the  instant  in  which  •  heart  turns  with  tnio  desire  to 
God,  in  that  instant  does  Qod  draw  near  to  it    Tho  Arctic 
spring  comes  with  one  stride  5  to-day  snow,  to-morrow 
flowers.    There  is  no  time  needed  to  work  this  telegraph  ; 
while  we  speak  He  hears ;  before  we  call  He  answers. 
We  have  to  wait  for  many  of  His  gifts,  never  for  Him- 
self.   We  have  to  wait  sometimee  when  by  our  own 
faults  we  postpone  the  coming  of  the  blessings  that  we 
have  asked.    If  we  are  thinking  more  about  Absalom  and 
Ahitophel  than  about  God  ;  more  about  our  sorrows  and  our 
troubles  than  about  Himself ;  if  we  are  busy  with  other 
things  ;  if  having  asked  we  do  not  look  up  and  expect ;  if  we 
shut  the  doors  of  our  hearts  as  soon  as  our  prayer  is  offered, 
or  languidly  stroll  away  from  the  place  of  prayer  ere  the 
blessing  lias  fluttered  down  upon  our  souls,  of  course  we 
do  not  get  it.    But  God  is  always  waiting  to  bestow,  and 
all  that  we  need  to  do  is  to  open  the  sluices  and  the  groat 
ocean  flows  in,  or  as  much  of  it  as  our  hearts  can  b     u 
**  My  soul  thirsteth,**  is  the  experience  of  the  one  moment, 


>/ 


250  THB  THIRST  OF  THB  SOUL  AFTBB  QOD 

and  ere  the  dock  has  ticked  again,  **  My  sonl  shall  be 
satisfied.** 

Then  notice,  the  soul  that  possesses  God  is  fed  full. 
The  emblem  here,  of  course,  is  of  a  joyful  feast,  possibly 
of  a  sacrificial  one  ;  but  the  fact  is  that  whoever  has  got 
a  living  hold  of  God  and  a  little  bit  of  God  lovingly 
imbedded  in  his  heart,  has  got  as  much  as  he  needs. 
Between  God  and  him  there  is  such  a  correspondence  as 
that  He  is  the  absolute  and  all-sufficient  good.  If  I  may 
so  say,  every  hollow  in  my  nature  answers  to  a  pro- 
tuberance in  His,  and  when  you  put  the  two  together  the 
little  heart  is  filled  by  the  great  heart  that  has  come  in  to 
it.  We  are  at  rest  when  we  have  God,  and  to  long  for 
Him  is  to  insure  the  possession  of  an  absolute  and  all- 
sufficient  good. 

We  have  here,  still  further,  the  satisfied  soul  break- 
ing into  the  music  of  praise.  "My  mouth  shall 
praise  Thee  with  joyful  lips  when  I  remember  Thee 
upon  my  bed,  and  meditate  on  Thee  in  the  night- 
watches."  There  is  a  reference,  no  doubt,  there,  to  the 
little  camp  in  the  wilderness,  where  David  and  his  men, 
unguarded  save  by  God,  laid  themselves  down  to  sleep 
beneath  the  Syrian  sky  with  all  its  stars,  and  where  the 
leader,  no  doubt,  often  awoke  in  the  night,  with  pricked- 
up  ears  listening  for  the  sound  of  an  approaching  enemy. 
And  even  then  into  his  heart  there  steals  the  thought  of 
his  great  Protector ;  and  as  he  says  in  another  of  the 
Psalms  dating  from  this  period,  "  I  will  lay  me  down  in 
peace  and  sleep,  because  Thou  makest  me  to  dwell, 
though  solitary,  in  safety."  The  heart  that  feeds  upon 
God  is  secure,  and  breaks  into  songs  in  the  night,  and 
music  of  praise.  That  feast  has  always  minstrels  at  it. 
The  spontaneous  utterance  of  a  heart  feeding  on  God  is 
thankfulness  and  praise,  which  is  as  natural  as  smilet 
when  we  are  glad,  or  as  tears  when  we  mourn. 


AND  ITS  SATISFACTION  IN  GOD.  251 

And  then,  still  fnrther,  this  satisfaction  leads  on  to  a 
triumphant  hope.  "Because  Thou  hast  been  my  help, 
therefore  in  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings  will  I  rejoice," 
Snch  a  past  and  such  a  present  can  only  have  one  kind 
of  future  as  their  consequence — a  future  in  which  the 
seeking  soul  nestling  beneath  the  great  outstretched  wings 
shall  crowd  close  to  the  Father's  heart,  and  be  guarded  by 
His  love.  If  we  hold  fellowship  with  Him  He  protects 
ns.  As  another  Psalm  says,  using  a  similar  metaphor  : 
"He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most 
High  shall  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty." 
Oommanion  with  God  means  protection  by  God. 

The  past  of  the  seeking  soul  is  the  certain  pledge  of 
its  future.  Ths  uncertainties  of  the  dim  to-morrow,  in 
rfo  far  as  earth  is  concerned,  are  so  many  that  we  can 
never  say,  *•  To-morrow  shall  be  as  this  day."  And  in 
regard  of  all  other  sources  of  blessing,  the  dearest  and  the 
purest,  we  have  all  to  feel,  with  sinking,  sickening  hearts, 
that  the  longer  we  have  had  them  the  nearer  comes  the 
day  of  their  certain  loss.  But  about  Him  we  can  say, 
"Because  Thou  hast  been  my  Helper,  therefore  in  the 
shadow  of  Thy  wings  will  I  rejoice.'*  And  in  union  with 
Him  we  can  look  out  over  all  the  dim  sea  that  stretches 
before  us,  and  though  we  know  not  what  storms  may  vex 
the  surface,  or  whither  its  currents  may  carry  us,  we  can 
say,  "  Thou  wilt  be  with  Me,  and  in  Thee  I  shall  have 
peace.** 

III. — And  so,  lastly,  the  final  section  of  this  Psalm  gives 
us  the  satisfied  soul  still  seeking  after  God.  "  My  soul 
followeth  hard  after  Thee,  Thy  right  hand  upholdeth  me." 

The  word  translated  followeth  here  literally  means  to 
cleave  or  to  cling.  And  there  is  a  beautiful  double  idea 
of  a  twofold  relationship  expressed  in  that  somewhat 
incongruous  form  of  speech,  "cleave  after  Thee,*'  the 
former  word  giving  the  idea  of  union  and  possession,  the 


y' 


252  THB  THIBST  OF  THB  S0X7L  AFTBB  GOD 

latt«r  inggeiting  the  other  idea  of  search  and  pnrstdt. 
So  that  the  two  main  currents  of  thought  in  the  Psalm 
are  repeated  in  that  little  phrase  :  and  we  are  back  again 
— though  with  a  wonderful^  difference — to  the  ground 
tone  of  the  first  section.  There  the  soul  thirsteth  ;  here 
"th«  Boul  cleaveth  after" — both  expressive  of  pursuit, 
but  the  latter,  as  consequent  upon  the  satisfaction  which 
followed  upon  the  thirst,  speaks  of  a  prof ounder  posses- 
sion and  of  a  less  painful  sense  of  want. 

"  My  soul  cleaveth  after  God."  That  is  to  say,  inas- 
much as  He  is  infinite,  and  this  nature  of  mine  capable 
of  indefinite  expansion,  each  new  possession  of  Him 
which  follows  upon  an  enlarged  desire  will  open  the 
elastic  walls  of  my  heart  so  that  they  shall  enclose  a  wider 
space  and  be  capable  of  holding  more  of  God,  and  there- 
fore I  shall  possess  more.  Desire  expands  the  heart; 
possession  expands  the  heart.  More  of  God  comes  when 
we  can  hold  more  of  Him,  and  the  end  of  all  fruition  is 
the  renewed  desire  after  further  fruition. 

This  world's  gifts  cloy  and  never  satisfy ;  God  satisfies 
and  never  cloys.  And  we  have,  and  we  shall  have,  if  we 
are  His  children,  the  double  delight  of  a  continued 
fruition,  and  a  continued  desire.  So  we  shall  ascend,  if 
I  may  so  say,  in  ever  higher  and  higher  spirals,  which 
will  rise  further  and  draw  in  more  closely  towards  the 
unreached  and  unattainable  Throne  of  the  blessed  Him- 
self, •*My  soul  thirsteth";  "my  soul  is  satisfied";  "my 
satisfied  soul  still  longs  and  follows." 

And  then  there  is  also  very  beautifully  here,  the  co- 
operation, and  reciprocal  action  of  the  seeking  soul  and  of 
the  sustaining  God.  "  My  soul  f olloweth  hard  after  Thee  ; 
Thy  right  hand  upholdeth  me."  We  hold  and  we  are 
held.  We  hold  because  we  are  held,  and  we  are  held 
while  we  hold.  We  follow,  and  yet  He  is  with  us  ;  we 
long,  and  yet  we  possess ;  we  pursue,  and  yet  in  the  very 


AND  ITS  SATISFACTION  IN  GOD.  258 

act  of  pnreuit  we  are  upheld  by  His  hand.  We  should 
not  follow  unless  He  held  us  up.  He  will  not  hold  us 
up  unless  we  follow.  All  controversies  of  grace  and  free- 
will are  reconciled  and  lulled  to  sleep  in  these  great 
words. 

And  now  I  can  but  lightly  touch  upon  the  last  portion 
of  the  Psalm,  which  describes  one  consequence  of  press- 
ing after  God.  The  soul  thus  cleaving  and  following  is 
gifted  with  a  prophetic  certainty.  "  Those  that  seek  my 
ioul  are  destined  for  destruction"  (so  is  the  probable  ren- 
dering); "they  shall  go  into  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth" 
— swallowed  up  like  Korah  and  his  rebellious  company. 
•*They  shall  each  be  given  up  to  the  power  of  the  sword  *• 
(as  the  words  might  be  rendered);  "they  shall  be  a 
portion  for  foxes"  {or  jackals^  as  the  word  means).  Their 
unburied  bodies  shall  lie  in  the  wilderness,  and  the 
jackals  shall  tear  and  devour  them.  David  regarded  his 
enemies  as  God's  enemies.  David's  point  of  view  per- 
mitted him  to  exult  with  a  stem  but  not  unrighteouB  joy 
in  their  destruction.  But  these  words  are  not  prayer  nor 
imprecation,  but  prophecy  and  the  insight  of  a  soul  con- 
scious of  union  with  God,  and  therefore  assured  that 
everything  which  stands  in  the  way  of  its  possession  of 
God  Whom  it  loves  is  destined  for  annihilation. 

And,  disengaging  the  words  from  the  mere  husk  and 
ihell  of  Old  Testament  experience,  all  of  us,  if  we  cleave 
to  God,  may  have  this  confidence,  that  nothing  can  hinder 
our  fellowship  with  God  ;  and  that  whatsoever  stands  in 
the  way  of  our  closer  union  with  Him  shall  be  swept  out 
of  the  way.  David's  certainty  of  the  destruction  of  his 
foes  is  the  same  triumphant  assurance,  on  a  lower  spiritual 
level,  as  Paul's  trumpet-blast  of  victory.  "Who  shall 
separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  ?  Shall  tribulation,  or 
distress,  or  persecution,  or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril, 
•r  fword  ?  **    **  Nay,  in  all  these  things," — and  over  ftU 


254  THE  THIBST  OF  THE  SOUL  AFrBB  QOD. 

these  things — '^we  are  more  than  conquerors  through 
Him  that  loved  ns.'* 

There  is  the  other  side  of  this  prophetic  certainty  here. 
"  The  king  shall  rejoice  in  God ;  every  one  that  sweareth 
by  Him  shall  glory."  He  and  his  faithful  followers  shall 
realise  a  divine  deliverance,  which  shall  be  the  subject  of 
their  praise  ;  and  the  adversary's  lips  shall  be  sealed  with 
silence,  their  vindication  shall  stick  in  their  throat,  and 
they  shall  be  dumb  before  the  judgment  of  Almighty  God. 
That  confidence  too  may  stand  as  a  symbol  of  the  certainty 
of  hope  which  refreshes  the  soul  which  seeks  and  possesses 
God,  even  in  the  wilderness  and  while  compassed  with 
sorrows  and  fears.  We,  too,  may  find  in  our  present  union 
with  God  a  prophecy  fixed  and  firm  as  the  pillars  of  His 
throne,  of  our  future  kingly  dignity,  and  rapturous  joy  in 
Him.  It  is  reserved  not  for  us  only  but  for  all  whose  lips 
confessed  Him  on  earth  and  shall  therefore  be  opened  to 
lift  up  before  Him  triumphant  praise,  which  shall  drown 
the  discords  of  opposing  voices,  and  no  more  be  broken 
by  sobs  or  weeping. 

My  brother  !  we  are  all  thirsty.  Do  you  know  what  it 
is  that  makes  you  restless  ?  Do  you  know  Who  it  is  that 
you  need  ?  Listen  to  Him  that  says  :  "  If  any  man  thirst 
let  him  come  to  Me  and  drink."  Choose  whether  you 
will  be  tortured  with  mad  and  aimless  cravings,  and 
perish  in  a  dry  land ;  or  whether  you  will  come  to  the 
Fountain  of  Life  in  Christ  your  Saviour,  and  slake  your 
thirst  at  God  Himself. 


"CAIAPHAS.'^ 


SXBMON 


•OAIAPHA&* 

«ABd  «M  of  them,  luuned  Oid*phM>  being  the  high  prleit  th*t  nm«  jmt,  nid  uaU 
*«■,  Te  know  nothing  at  all,  nor  ooniider  that  it  ia  expedient  for  of  that  on«  man 
ihould  di«  for  the  people^  and  that  the  whole  nation  periah  not"— JOHV  xL  49,  Ml 

Thb  resnirection  of  Lazams  had  raised  a  wave  of  popnlar 
excitement.  Any  stir  amongst  the  people  was  dangerons, 
especially  at  the  Passover  time,  which  was  nigh  at  hand, 
when  Jemsalem  would  be  filled  with  crowds  of  men, 
ready  to  take  fire  from  any  spark  that  might  fall  amongst 
them.  So  a  hasty  meeting  of  the  principal  ecclesiastical 
council  of  the  Jews  was  summoned,  in  order  to  discuss 
the  situation,  and  concert  measures  for  repressing  the 
nascent  enthusiasm.  One  might  have  expected  to  find 
there  some  disposition  to  inquire  honestly  into  the  claims 
of  a  Teacher  Who  had  such  a  witness  to  His  claims  as 
a  man  alive  that  had  been  dead.  But  nothing  of  the 
■ort  appears  in  their  ignoble  calculations.  Like  all  weak 
men,  they  feel  that  **  something  must  be  done,"  and  are 
perfectly  unable  to  say  what.  They  admit  Christ's  mira- 
tlet.  '*  This  man  doeth  many  miracles" ;  but  they  are 
not  a  bit  the  nearer  to  recognising  His  mission,  being 
therein  disobedient  to  their  law  and  untrue  to  their  office. 
They  fear  thai  aay  disturbance  wiM  Mng  Rome's  heavy 

■ 


258  "  CAIAPHAS." 

hand  down  on  them,  and  lead  to  the  loss  of  what  national 
life  they  still  possess.  Bnt  even  that  fear  is  not  patriotism 
nor  religion.  It  is  pure  self-interest.  "  They  will  take 
away  our  place" — the  Temple,  probably — "and  onr 
nation."  The  holy  things  were,  in  their  eyes,  their 
special  property.  And  so,  at  this  supreme  moment,  big 
with  the  fate  of  themselves  and  of  their  nation,  their 
whole  anxiety  is  about  personal  interests.  They  hesitate, 
«nd  are  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 

But  however  they  may  hesitate,  there  is  one  man  that 
knows  his  own  mind — Caiaphas,  the  high  priest.  He  has 
no  doubt  as  to  what  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  He  has  the 
advantage  of  a  perfectly  clear  and  single  purpose,  and  no 
sort  of  restraint  of  conscience  or  delicacy  keeps  him  from 
ipeaking  it  out.  He  is  impatient  at  their  vacillation,  and 
he  brushes  it  all  aside  with  the  brusque  and  contemptuous 
speech  :  "  Ye  know  nothing  at  all !  '•  "  The  one  point  of 
view  for  us  to  have  is  our  own  interests.  Let  us  have 
that  clearly  understood ;  when  we  once  ask  what  is 
•expedient  for  us,*  there  will  be  no  doubt  about  the 
answer.  This  man  must  die!  Never  miud  about  His 
miracles,  or  His  teaching,  or  the  beauty  of  His  character. 
His  life  is  a  perpetual  danger  to  onr  prerogatives.  I  vote 
for  death  !•• 

And  so  he  clashes  his  advice  down  into  the  middle  of 
their  waverings,  like  a  piece  of  iron  into  yielding  water  ; 
and  the  strong  man,  restrained  by  no  conscience,  and 
speaking  out  cynically  the  thought  that  is  floating  in  all 
their  minds,  but  which  they  dare  not  utter,  is  master 
of  the  situation,  and  the  resolve  is  taken.  **  From  that  da^ 
forth"  they  determined  to  put  Him  to  death. 

But  John  regards  this  selfish,  cruel  advice  as  a  pr(^ 
phecy.  Caiaphas  spoke  wiser  things  than  he  knew.  The 
Divine  Spirit  breathed  in  strange  fashion  through  even 
saeh  lips  as  his,  and  moulded  his  sayage  utterance  inte 


259 

•nch  a  form  as  that  it  became  a  fit  expression  for  the  ▼ery 
deepest  thonght  about  the  nature  and  the  power  of 
Christ's  death.  He  did  indeed  die  for  that  people- 
thinks  the  Evangelist— even  though  they  have  rejected 
him,  and  the  dreaded  Romans  liave  come  and  taken  away 
our  place  and  nation — but  his  death  had  a  wider  purpose, 
and  was  not  for  that  nation  only,  but  that  also  "  He  should 
gather  together  in  one  the  children  of  God  that  are  scat- 
tered abroad." 

I^t  us,  then,  take  these  two  aspects  of  the  man  and  his 
counsel :  the  unscrupulous  priest  and  his  savage  advice  ; 
the  unconscious  prophet  and  his  great  prediction. 

I. — First,  then,  let  us  take  the  former  point  of  view,  and 
think  of  this  unscrupulous  priest  and  his  savage  advice. 
"  It  is  expedient  for  us  that  one  man  die  for  the  people, 
and  that  the  whole  nation  perish  not." 

Remember  who  he  was,  the  high  priest  of  the  nation, 
with  Aaron's  mitre  on  his  brow,  and  centuries  of  illus- 
trious traditions  embodied  in  his  person  ;  set  by  his  very 
office  to  tend  the  sacred  flame  of  their  Messianic  hopes,  and 
with  pure  hands  and  heart  to  offer  sacrifice  for  the  sins 
of  the  people  ;  the  head  and  crown  of  the  national  religion, 
in  whose  heart  justice  and  mercy  should  have  found  a 
sanctuary  if  they  had  fled  from  all  others ;  whose  ears 
ought  to  have  been  opened  to  the  faintest  whisper  of  the 
voice  of  God  ;  whose  lips  should  ever  have  been  ready  to 
witness  for  the  truth. 

And  see  what  he  is !  A  crafty  schemer,  as  blind  as  a 
mole  to  the  beauty  of  Christ's  character  and  the  greatness 
of  His  words  ;  utterly  unspiritual ;  undisguisedly  selfish  ; 
rude  as  a  boor  ;  cruel  as  a  cut-throat ;  and  having  reached 
that  supreme  height  of  wickedness  in  which  he  can  dress 
hia  ngliest  thought  in  the  plainest  words,  and  send  them 
into  the  world  unabashed.  What  a  lesson  this  speech  of 
Caiaphaa,  and  the  character  disclosed  by  it,  read  to  all 

i  % 


260  '^OAIAPHAS.** 

persons  who  htvo  •  profeoiional  connection  with  nil* 

gioni 

He  can  take  one  point  of  view  only,  in  regard  of  the 
mightiest  spiritnal  revelation  that  the  world  ever  saw ; 
and  that  is,  its  bearing  upon  his  own  miserable  personal 
Interests,  and  the  interests  of  the  order  to  which  he 
belongs.  And  so,  whatever  may  be  the  wisdom,  or  mir- 
acles, or  goodness  of  Jesns,  because  He  threatens  the  pre- 
rogatives of  the  priesthood,  He  must  die  and  be  got  ont  of 
the  way. 

This  is  only  an  extreme  case  of  a  temper  and  a  tendency 
which  is  perennial.  Popes  and  inquisitors  and  priests  of 
all  Churches  have  done  the  same,  in  their  degree,  in  all 
ages.  They  have  always  been  tempted  to  look  upon 
religion  and  religious  truth  and  religious  organisations  as 
existing  somehow  for  their  personal  advantage.  And  so 
**  the  Church  is  in  danger ! "  generally  means  "my  position 
ia  threatened,'*  and  heretics  are  got  rid  of,  because  their 
teaching  is  inconvenient  for  the  prerogatives  of  a  priest- 
hood ;  and  new  truth  is  fought  against  because  officials  do 
not  see  how  it  harmonises  with  their  pre-eminence. 

It  is  not  popes  and  priests  and  inquisitors  only  that  are 
examples  of  the  tendency.  The  warning  is  needed  by 
every  man  who  stands  in  such  a  position  as  mine,  whose 
business  it  is  professionally  to  handle  sacred  things,  and 
to  administer  Christian  institutions  and  Christian  ritual. 
All  such  men  are  tempted  to  look  upon  the  truth  as  their 
stock-in-trade,  and  to  fight  against  innovations,  and  to 
array  themselves  instinctively  against  progress,  and  frown 
down  new  aspects  and  new  teachers  of  truth,  simply 
because  they  threaten,  or  appear  to  threaten,  the  position 
and  prerogatives  of  the  teachers  that  be.  Caiaphas*  sin  is 
possible,  and  Caiaphas'  tempation  is  actual,  for  every  man 
whose  profession  it  is  to  handle  the  oracles  of  God. 

Bat  the  leasons  of  this  speech  and  character  are  for  ni 


•^OAIAPHAa"  261 

ill.  Caiaphas*  sentence  is  an  nndisgnised,  nnbliuhing 
avowal  of  a  pnrely  aelfish  standpoint.  It  is  not  a  common 
depth  of  degradation  to  stand  up,  and  without  a  blush,  to 
say  :  "  I  look  at  all  my  claims  of  revelation,  at  all  my  pro- 
fessedly spiritual  truth,  and  at  everything  else,  from  one 
delightfully  simple  point  of  view — I  ask  myself,  how 
does  it  bear  upon  what  I  think  to  be  my  advantage  ?*♦ 
What  a  deal  of  perplexity  a  man  is  saved  if  he  takes  up 
that  position  I  Yes  I  and  how  he  has  damned  himself  in 
the  very  act  of  doing  it  I  For,  look  what  this  absorbing 
and  exclusive  self-regard  does  in  the  illustration  before 
us,  and  let  us  learn  what  it  will  do  to  ourselves. 

This  selfish  consideration  of  our  own  interests  will 
make  us  as  blind  as  bats  to  the  most  radiant  beauty  of 
truth  ;  ay,  and  to  Christ  Himself,  if  the  recognition  of 
Him  and  of  His  message  seems  to  threaten  any  of  these. 
They  tell  us  that  fishes  which  live  in  the  water  of  caverns 
get  to  lose  their  eyesight ;  and  men  that  are  always  living 
in  the  dark  holes  of  their  own  selfish,  absorbed  natures, 
they,  too,  lose  their  spiritual  sight  ;  and  the  fairest, 
loftiest,  truest  and  most  radiant  visions  (which  are 
realities)  pass  before  their  eyes,  and  they  see  them  not. 
When  you  put  on  regard  for  yourselves  as  they  used  to 
do  blinkers  upon  horses,  you  have  no  longer  the  power 
of  wide,  comprehensive  vision,  but  only  see  straight  for- 
ward upon  the  narrow  line  which  you  fancy  is  marked 
out  by  your  own  interests.  If  ever  there  comes  into  the 
selfish  man's  mind  a  truth,  or  an  aspect  of  Christ's  mission 
which  may  seem  to  cut  against  some  of  his  practices  or 
interests,  how  blind  he  is  to  it  I  When  Lord  Nelson  was 
at  Copenhagen,  and  they  hoisted  the  signal  of  recall,  he 
put  his  telescope  up, to  his  blind  eye  and  said,  "I  do  not 
see  it  I"  And  that  is  exactly  what  this  self-absorbed 
regard  to  our  own  interests  does  with  hundreds  of  men 
\vh  o  do  not  in  the  least  degree  know  it  It  blinds  them  to  the 


262  ••OAIAPHAfl." 

plain  will  of  the  commander-in-chief  flying  there  at  the 
masthead.  **  There  are  none  so  blind  as  those  who  will 
not  see  ;"  and  there  are  none  who  so  certainly  will  not 
see  as  those  who  have  an  nneasy  suspicion  that  if  they  do 
see  they  will  have  to  change  their  tack.  So  I  say,  look 
at  the  instance  before  us,  and  learn  the  lesson  of  the  blind- 
ness to  truth  and  beauty,  which  are  Christ  Himself,  which 
comes  of  a  regard  to  one's  own  interests. 

Then  again,  this  same  self-regard  may  bring  a  man 
down  to  any  kind  and  degree  of  wrong-doing.  Caiaphas 
was  brought  down  by  it,  being  the  supreme  judge  of  his 
nation,  to  be  an  assassin  and  an  accomplice  of  murderers. 
And  it  is  only  a  question  of  accident  and  of  circumstances 
how  far  that  man  will  descend  who  once  yields  himself  up 
to  the  guidance  of  such  a  disposition  and  tendency.  We 
have  all  of  us  to  fight  against  the  developed  selfishness 
which  takes  the  form  of  this,  that,  and  the  other  sin  ;  and 
we  have  all  of  us,  if  we  are  wise,  to  fight  against  the  un- 
developed sin  which  lies  in  all  selfishness.  Remember 
this  !  If  you  begin  with  laying  down  as  the  canon  of 
your  conduct — "  It  is  expedient  for  me,"  you  have  got 
upon  an  inclined  plane  that  tilts  at  a  very  sharp  angle, 
and  is  very  sufficiently  greased,  and  ends  away  down 
yonder  in  the  depths  of  darkness  and  of  death,  and  it  is 
only  a  question  of  time  how  far  and  how  fast,  deep,  and 
irrevocable  will  be  your  descent. 

And  lastly,  this  same  way  of  looking  at  things  which 
takes  "  It  is  expedient"  as  the  determining  consideration, 
has  in  it  an  awful  power  of  so  twisting  and  searing  a 
man's  conscience  as  that  he  comes  to  view  the  evil  and 
never  to  know  that  there  is  anything  wrong  in  it.  This 
cynical  high  priest  in  our  text  had  no  conception  that  he 
was  doing  anything  but  obeying  the  plainest  dictates 
of  the  most  natural  self-preservation  when  he  gave  his 
opinion  that  they  had  better  kill  Christ  than  have  any 


••CAIAPHAa."  26? 

danger  to  their  priesthood.  The  crime  of  the  actual 
cracifixion  was  diminished  because  the  doers  were  so 
unconscious  that  it  was  a  crime ;  but  the  crime  of  the  pro- 
cess by  which  they  had  come  to  be  unconscious — oh  I  how 
that  was  increased  and  deepened.  So,  if  we  fix  onr  eyes 
sharply  and  exclusively  on  what  makes  for  onr  own 
advantage,  and  take  that  as  the  point  of  view  from  which 
we  determine  our  conduct,  we  may,  and  we  shall,  bring 
ourselves  into  such  a  condition  as  that  our  consciences 
will  cease  to  be  sensitive  to  right  and  wrong  ;  and  we 
shall  do  all  manner  of  bad  things,  and  never  know  it. 
We  shall  "  wipe  our  mouths  and  say  :  *  I  have  done  no 
harm.' "  So,  I  beseech  you,  remember  this,  that  to  live 
for  self  is  hell,  and  that  the  only  antagonist  of  such  sel» 
fishness,  which  leads  to  blindness,  crime,  and  a  seared 
conscience,  is  to  yield  ourselves  to  the  love  of  God  in 
Jesus  Christ,  and  to  say  :— "  I  live,  yet,  not  I,  but  Christ 
liveth  in  me." 

II. — And  now  turn  briefly  to  the  second  aspect  of  this 
Baying,  into  which  the  former,  if  I  may  so  say,  melts 
away.  We  have  the  unconscious  prophet  and  his  great 
prediction. 

The  Evangelist  conceives  that  the  man  who  filled  the 
office  of  high  priest,  being  the  head  of  the  theocratic 
community,  w^as  naturally  the  medium  of  a  Divine  oracle. 
When  he  says,  "  being  the  high  priest  (hat  year,  Caiaphas 
prophesied,"  he  does  not  imply  that  the  high  priestly 
office  was  annual,  but  simply  desires  to  mark  the  fateful 
importance  of  that  year  for  the  history  of  the  world  and 
the  priesthood.  "  In  that  year"  the  great  "  High  Priest 
for  ever"  came  and  stood  for  a  moment  by  the  side  of 
the  earthly  high  priest — the  Substance  by  the  shadow — 
and  by  His  offering  of  Himself  as  the  one  Sacrifice  for 
sin  for  ever,  deprived  priesthood  and  sacrifice  hence- 
forward of  all  their  validity.    So  that  Caiaphas  waa  ib 


264  "OAIAPHAg.* 

reality  the  last  of  the  high  priests,  and  those  that  (ni«- 
ceeded  him  for  something  lees  than  half  a  century  were 
but  like  ghosts  that  walked  after  cock-crow.  And  what 
the  Evangelist  would  mark  is  the  importance  of  "that  year," 
as  making  Caiaphas  ever  memorable  to  us.  Solemn  and 
strange  that  the  long  line  of  Aaron's  priesthood  ended  in 
such  a  man  ;  the  river  in  a  putrid  morass  ;  and  that  of  all 
the  years  in  the  history  of  the  nation,  "in  that  year" 
should  such  a  person  fill  such  an  office ! 

"Being  high  priest  he  prophesied."  And  was  there 
anything  strange  in  a  bad  man's  prophesying  ?  Did  not 
the  Spirit  of  God  breathe  through  Balaam  of  old  ?  Ib 
there  anything  incredible  in  a  man's  prophesying  uncon- 
sciously ?  Did  not  Pilate,  when  he  nailed  over  the  Cross : 
•*  This  is  the  King  of  the  Jews,"  and  wrote  it  in  Hebrew, 
and  in  Greek,  and  in  Latin,  conceive  himself  to  be  per- 
petrating a  rude  jest,  and  was  he  not  proclaiming  an  ever- 
lasting truth  ?  When  the  Pharisees  stood  at  the  foot  of 
the  Cross  and  taunted  Him,  "  He  saved  others,  Himself 
He  cannot  save,"  did  they  not,  too,  speak  deeper  things 
than  they  knew  ?  And  were  not  the  lips  of  this  unworthy, 
selfish,  unspiritual,  unscrupulous,  cruel  priest  so  used  as 
that,  all  unconsciously,  his  words  lent  themselves  to  the 
proclamation  of  the  glorious  central  truth  of  Christianity, 
that  Christ  died  for  the  nation  that  slew  Him  and  re- 
jected Him,  nor  for  them  alone,  but  for  all  the  world  ? 
Look,  though  but  for  a  moment,  at  the  thoughts  that 
come  from  this  new  view  of  the  words  which  we  have 
been  considering. 

They  suggest  to  us,  first  of  all,  the  twofold  aspect  of 
Christ's  death.  From  the  human  point  of  view  it  was  a 
savage  murder  by  forms  of  law  for  political  ends ;  Caiaphas 
and  the  priests  slaying  Him  to  avoid  a  popular  tumult 
that  might  threaten  their  prerogatives,  Pilate  consenting 
to  His  death  to  avoid  the  unpopularity  that  might  follow 


••0AIAPHA8.*'  1i6^ 

a  refusal.  From  the  Divine  point  of  yiew  it  is  God's  great 
sacrifice  for  the  sin  of  the  world.  It  is  the  most  signal 
instance  of  that  solemn  law  of  Providence  which  rans  all 
through  the  history  of  the  world,  whereby  bad  men's  bad 
deeds,  strained  through  the  fine  network,  as  it  were,  of 
the  Divine  providence,  lose  their  poison  and  become  nu- 
tritions and  fertilising.  **  Thon  makest  the  wrath  of  men 
to  praise  Thee  ;  with  the  residue  thereof  Thou  girdest 
Thyself.**  The  greatest  crime  ever  done  in  the  world  is 
the  greatest  blessing  ever  given  to  the  world.  Man's  sin 
works  out  the  loftiest  Divine  purpose,  even  as  the  coral 
insects  blindly  building  up  the  reef  that  keeps  back  the 
waters,  or,  as  the  sea  in  its  wild,  impotent  rage,  seeking  to 
overwhelm  the  land,  only  throws  upon  the  beach  a  barrier 
that  confines  its  waves  and  curbs  their  fury. 

Then,  again,  this  second  aspect  of  the  eonnsel  of 
Oaiaphas  suggests  for  ns  the  twofold  consequences  of 
that  death  on  the  nation  itself.  This  Gospel  of  John  was 
probably  written  after  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem.  By 
the  time  that  our  Evangelist  penned  these  words  ''the 
Romans  ?iad  come  and  taken  away  their  place  and  their 
nation.**  The  thing  that  Oaiaphas  and  his  party  had,  by 
their  short-sighted  policy,  tried  to  prevent  had  beeik 
brought  about  by  the  very  deed  itself.  For  Ghrist*s  death 
was  practically  the  reason  for  the  destruction  of  the  Jewish 
commonwealth.  When  "the  husbandmen  said,  Come! 
let  us  kill  Him,  and  seize  on  the  inheritance,*'  which  is 
simply  putting  Caiaphas*  counsel  into  other  language,  they 
thereby  deprived  themselves  of  the  inheritance.  And  so 
Christ's  death  is  the  destruction  and  not  the  salvation  of 
the  nation. 

And  yet,  it  was  true  that  He  died  for  that  people,  for 
every  man  of  them,  for  Caiaphas  as  truly  as  for  John,  for 
Judas  as  truly  as  for  Peter,  for  all  the  Scribes  and  the  Phari- 
sees that  mocked  round  His  cross,  as  truly  as  for  the 


266  "CAIAPHAfl.* 

women  ilui  itood  silently  weeping  there.  He  died  for 
them  all.  And  John,  looking  back  upon  the  destruction 
of  his  nation,  can  yet  say  :  "  He  died  for  that  people." 
Yes  I  And  just  because  He  did,  and  because  they  re- 
jected Him,  His  death,  which  they  would  not  let  be  their 
salvation,  became  their  destruction  and  their  ruin.  Oh  I 
brethren,  it  is  always  so  1  "  He  is  either  a  Savour  of  life 
unto  life,  or  a  Savour  of  death  unto  death  !"  **  Behold  ! 
1  lay  in  Zion  for  a  foundation,  a  tried  stone/'  Build 
upon  it  and  you  are  safe.  If  you  do  not  build  upon  it, 
that  stone  becomes  "  a  stone  of  stumbling  and  a  rock  of 
offence.**  You  must  either  build  upon  Christ  or  fall  over 
Him  ;  yon  must  either  build  upon  Christ,  or  be  crushed 
to  powder  under  Him.  Make  your  choice !  the  twofold 
effect  is  wrought  ever,  but  we  can  choose  which  of  the 
two  shall  be  wrought  upon  us. 

Lastly,  w^e  have  here  the  twofold  sphere  in  whieh  our 
Lord's  mighty  death  works  its  effects. 

1  have  already  said  that  this  Gospel  was  written  after 
the  fall  of  Jerusalem.  The  whole  tone  of  it  shows  that 
the  conception  of  the  Church  as  quite  separate  from 
Judaism  was  firmly  established.  The  narrower  national 
system  had  been  shivered,  and  from  out  of  the  dust  and 
hideous  ruin  of  its  crushing  fall  had  emerged  the  fairer 
reality  of  a  Church  as  wide  as  the  world.  The  Temple  on 
Zion — which  was  but  a  small  building  after  all — had  been 
burned  with  fire.  It  was  tJieir  place,  as  Caiaphas  called 
it.  But  the  clearing  away  of  the  narrower  edifice  had 
revealed  the  rising  walls  of  the  great  temple,  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  whose  roof  over-arches  every  land,  and  in 
whose  courts  all  men  may  stand  and  praise  the  Lord.  So 
John,  in  his  home  in  Ephesus,  surrounded  by  flourish- 
ing churches  in  which  Jews  formed  a  small  and  ever- 
decreasing  element,  recognised  how  far  the  dove  with  the 
oUTe*braaeh  in  ita  mouth  fiew,  and  how  certainly  that 


••  CAIAPHAa"  267 

nation  was  only  a  little  fragment  of  the  many  for  whom 
Christ  died. 

"  The  children  of  God  that  were  scattered  abroad  '* 
were  all  to  be  united  round  that  Cross.  Yes !  the  only 
thing  that  unites  men  together  is  their  common  relation 
to  a  Divine  Redeemer  That  bond  is  deeper  than  all 
national  bonds,  than  all  blood-bonds,  than  community  of 
race,  than  family,  than  friendship,  than  social  ties,  than 
eommnnity  of  opinion,  than  community  of  purpose  and 
action.  It  is  destined  to  absorb  them  all.  All  these  are 
transitory  and  they  are  imperfect ;  men  wander  isolated 
notwithstanding  them  all.  But  if  we  are  knit  to  Christ, 
we  are  knit  to  all  who  are  also  knit  to  Him.  One  life 
animates  all  the  limbs,  and  one  life's  blood  circulates 
Ihroogh  all  the  veins.  So  also  is  Christ.  We  are  one  in 
Him,  m  whom  all  the  body  fitly  joined  together  maketh 
increase,  and  in  whom  all  the  building  fitly  framed  to- 
gether groweth.  If  we  have  yielded  to  the  power  of 
that  Cross  which  draws  us  to  itself,  we  shall  have  been 
more  utterly  alone,  in  our  penitence  and  in  our  conscious 
snrrender  to  Christ,  than  ever  we  were  before.  But  He 
Bets  the  solitary  in  families,  and  that  solemn  experience 
of  being  alone  with  our  Judge  and  our  Saviour  will  be 
followed  by  the  blessed  sense  that  we  are  no  more  soli- 
tary, but  "fellow-citizens  with  the  saints  and  of  the 
household  of  God." 

That  death  brings  men  into  the  family  of  God.  He  will 
•♦gather  into  one  the  scattered  children  of  God."  They 
are  called  children  by  anticipation.  For  surely  nothing 
can  be  clearer  than  that  the  doctrine  Of  all  John's  writings 
is  that  men  are  not  children  of  God  by  virtue  of  their 
humanity,  except  in  the  inferior  sense  of  being  made  by 
Him,  and  in  His  image  as  creatures  with  spirit  and  will, 
but  hecorm  children  of  God  through  faith  in  the  Son  of 
God,   which  brings  about  that  new  birth,   whereby  we 


26S  **  OAIAPHAS 


n 


become  partakers  of  the  Divine  Nature.  **  To  as  many  as 
received  Him,  to  them  gave  He  power  to  become  the  soni 
of  God,  even  to  them  that  believe  on  His  name. " 

So  I  beseech  you,  turn  yourselves  to  that  dear  Christ 
Who  has  died  for  us  all,  for  us  each,  for  me  and  for  thee  ; 
and  put  your  confidence  in  His  great  sacrifice.  You  will 
find  that  you  pass  from  isolation  into  society,  from  death 
into  life,  from  the  death  of  selfishness  into  the  life  of 
God.  Listen  to  Him,  who  says  : — "  Other  sheep  I  have 
which  are  not  of  this  fold,  them  also  I  must  bring,  and 
they  shall  hear  My  voice  :  and  there  ihall  be  one  flock** 
because  there  is  "  one  Shepherd.*' 


*'THE   GOSPEL   OF  THE   GLORY  OF  THE 
HAPPY   GOD/' 


SERMON  XXIL 


••THB  GOSPEL  OP  THB  GLORY  OP  THE  HAPPY  GOD." 

**Tbe  glorioof  gotpd  of  Ihe  blessed  God."->l  Tim.  L  U. 

rwo  remarks  of  an  expository  character  will  prepare  tht 
way  for  our  consideration  of  this  text.  The  first  is 
that  the  proper  rendering  iu  that  which  is  given  in  the 
Revised  Version, — "the  gospel  of  the  glory,"  not  the 
♦*  glorious  gospel."  The  Apostle  is  not  telling  ns  what 
kind  of  thing  the  Gospel  is,  bnt  what  it  is  abont.  He  is 
dealing  not  with  its  quality  but  with  its  contents.  It  is  a 
Gospel  which  reveals,  has  to  do  with,  is  the  manifestation 
of,  the  glory  of  God. 

Then  the  other  remark  is  with  reference  to  the  meaning 
of  the  word  **  blessed.'*  There  are  two  Greek  words 
which  are  both  translated  "  blessed*'  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment. One  of  them,  the  more  common,  literally  means 
•*  well  spoken  of,"  and  points  to  the  action  of  praise  or 
benediction  ;  describes  what  a  man  is  when  men  speak 
well  of  him,  or  what  God  is  when  men  praise  and  magnify 
His  name.  But  the  other  word,  which  is  used  here,  and 
is  only  applied  to  God  once  more  in  Scripture,  has  no 
reference  to  the  human  attribution  of  blessing  and  praise 
to  Him,  but  describes  Him  altogether  apart  from  wkak 


279  ''THB  OOSPBL  OF  THB  GLOBT 

men  lay  of  him,  as  what  He  is  in  Himself,  the  '*  blessed,*' 
or,  as  we  might  almost  say,  the  "  happy**  God.  If  the 
word  happy  seems  too  trivial,  suggesting  ideas  of  levity, 
of  turbulence,  of  possible  change,  then  I  do  not  know 
that  we  can  find  any  better  word  than  that  which  is 
already  employed  in  my  text,  if  only  we  remember  that 
it  means  the  solemn,  calm,  restful,  perpetual  gladness  that 
fills  the  heart  of  God. 

So  much,  then,  being  premised,  there  are  three  points 
that  seem  to  me  to  come  out  of  this  remarkable  expression 
of  my  text.  First,  the  revelation  of  God  in  Christ  of 
which  the  Gospel  is  the  record,  is  the  glory  of  Gk)d. 
Second,  that  revelation  is,  in  a  very  profound  sense,  the 
blessedness  of  Gk>d.  And,  lastly,  that  revelation  is  the 
good  news  for  men.  Let  as  look  at  these  three  points, 
then,  in  succession. 

I. — Take,  first,  that  striking  thought  that  the  revelation 
of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  is  the  glory  of  God. 

The  theme,  or  contents,  or  the  purpose  of  the  whole 
Gospel,  it  to  set  forth  and  make  manifest  to  men  the  Glory 
of  God. 

Now  what  do  we  mean  by  **the  glory**?  I  think,  per- 
haps, that  question  may  be  most  simply  answered  by  re- 
membering the  definite  meaning  of  the  word  in  the  Old 
Testament.  There  it  designates,  usually,  that  super- 
natural and  lustrous  light  which  dwelt  between  the 
cherubim,  the  symbol  of  the  presence  and  of  the  self- 
manifestation  of  God.  So  that  we  may  say,  in  brief,  that 
the  glory  of  God  is  the  sum-total  of  the  light  that  streams 
from  His  self -revelation,  considered  as  being  the  object 
of  adoration  and  praise  by  a  world  that  gazes  upon  Him. 

And  if  this  be  the  notion  of  the  glory  of  God,  is  it 
not  a  startling  contrast  which  is  suggested  between  the 
apparent  contents  and  the  real  substance  of  that  Gospel } 
SnppoM  a  man,  for  instance,  who  had  no  previous  know* 


OP  THB  HAPPT  GOD."  273 

ledge  of  OhriBtianity,  being  told  that  in  it  he  would  find 
the  highest  revelation  of  the  glory  of  God.  He  comes  to 
the  Book,  and  finds  that  the  very  heart  of  it  is  not  about 
God,  but  about  %  man;  that  this  revelation  of  the 
glory  of  God  Is  the  biography  of  a  man ;  and  more 
than  that,  that  the  larger  portion  of  that  biography  is 
the  story  of  the  humiliations,  and  the  sufferings,  and  the 
death  of  the  man.  Would  it  not  strike  him  as  a  strange 
paradox  that  the  history  of  a  marl's  life  was  the  shining 
apex  of  all  revelations  of  the  glory  of  Ood  f  And  yet  go  it 
is,  and  the  Apostle,  just  because  to  him  the  Gospel  was 
the  story  of  the  Christ  Who  lived  and  died,  declares  that 
in  this  Btory  of  a  human  life,  patient,  meek,  limited, 
despised,  rejected,  and  at  last  crucified,  lies,  brighter  than 
all  other  flashings  of  the  Divine  light,  the  very  heart  of 
the  lustre  and  palpitating  centre  and  fontal  source  of  all 
the  radiance  with  which  God  has  flooded  the  world.  The 
history  of  Jesua  Christ  is  the  glory  of  God.  And  that 
involves  two  or  three  considerations  on  which  I  dwell 
briefly. 

One  of  them  is  this  f  Christ,  then,  is  the  self -revelation 
of  God.  If,  when  we  deal  with  the  story  of  His  life  and 
death,  we  are  dealing  simply  with  the  biography  of  a  man, 
however  pure,  lofty,  inspired  he  may  be,  then  I  ask  what 
sort  of  connection  there  is  between  that  biography  whioh 
the  four  Gospels  gives  us,  and  what  my  text  says  is  the 
substance  of  the  Gospel  ?  What  force  of  logic  is  there  in 
the  Apostle's  words :  "God  commendeth  His  love  toward 
ui  in  that  whilst  we  were  yet  sinners  Christ  died  for  us," 
unless  there  is  some  altogether  different  connection  be- 
tween the  God  Who  commends  His  love  and  the  Christ 
who  dies  to  commend  it,  than  exists  between  a  mere  man 
and  God  f  Brethren !  to  deliver  my  text  and  a  hundred 
other  passages  of  Scripture  from  the  charge  of  being  ex- 
b^vagant  nonsense  and  clear,  illogical  non  tequiturs,  jon 

9 


274  ^  THE  GOSPEL  OF  THB  QLO&T 

mnflt  belieTe  that  In  that  Man  Christ  Jesus  "  we  behold 
His  glory — the  glory  of  the  only  begotten  of  the  Father"  ; 
and  that  when  we  look — haply  not  without  some  touch  of 
tenderness  and  awed  admiration  in  our  hearts — upon  His 
gentleness  we  have  to  say,  **  the  patient  God"  ;  when  we 
look  upon  His  tears  we  have  to  say,  "  the  pitying  God"  ; 
when  we  look  upon. His  cross  we  have  to  say,  "the  re- 
deeming God" ;  and  gazing  upon  the  Man,  see  in  Him  the 
manifest  Divinity.  Oh  I  listen  to  that  voice,  "  He  that 
hath  seen  Me  hath  seen  the  Father,"  and  bow  before  the 
story  of  the  human  life  M  being  the  revelation  of  the  in- 
dwelling God. 

And  then,  still  further,  my  text  suggests  that  this  self- 
revelation  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  is  the  very  climax  and 
highest  point  of  all  God's  revelations  to  men.  I  believe 
that  the  loftiest  exhibition  and  conception  of  the  Divine 
character  which  is  possible  to  us  must  be  made  to  us  in 
the  form  of  a  man.  I  believe  that  the  law  of  humanity, 
for  ever,  in  Heaven  as  on  earth,  is  this,  that  the  Son  is 
the  Revealer  of  God  ;  and  that  no  loftier — yea,  at  bottom, 
no  other — communication  of  the  Divine  nature  can  be 
made  to  man  than  is  made  in  Jesus  Christ. 

But  be  that  as  it  may,  let  me  urge  upon  you  this 
thought,  that  in  that  wondrous  story  of  the  life  and  death 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  the  very  high-water  mark  of 
Divine  self -communication  has  been  touched  and  reached. 
All  the  energies  of  the  Divine  nature  are  embodied 
there.  The  "  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom  and  of  the  know- 
ledge of  God,"  are  in  the  Cross  and  Passion  of  our 
Saviour.  "To  declare  at  this  time  his  righteoicsness'' 
Jesus  Christ  came  to  die.  The  Cross  is  "  the  power  of  God 
unto  salvation."  Or,  to  put  it  into  other  words,  and 
avail  oneself  of  an  illustration,  we  know  the  old  story  of 
the  queen  who,  for  the  love  of  an  unworthy  human  heart, 
diaeolved  pearls  in  the  cup  and  gave  them  to  him  to  drink. 


Of  THE  HAPPY  GOD."  275 

We  may  say  that  God  comes  to  us,  and  for  the  love  of  us, 
reprobate  and  unworthy,  has  melted  all  the  jewels  of  His 
nature  into  that  cup  of  blessing  which  He  offers  to  us, 
Baying  :  "  Drink  ye  all  of  it."  The  whole  God-head,  so  to 
speak,  is  smelted  down  to  make  that  rushing  river  of 
molten  love  which  flows  from  the  Cross  of  Christ  into  the 
hearts  of  men.  Here  is  the  highest  point  of  God*s  revela- 
tion of  Himself. 

And  my  text  implies,  still  further,  that  the  true  living, 
flashing  centre  of  the  glory  of  God  is  the  love  of  God. 
Christendom  is  more  than  half  heathen  yet,  and  it  betrays 
its  heathenism  not  least  in  its  vulgar  conceptions  of  the 
Divine  nature  and  its  glory.  The  majestic  attributes 
which  separate  God  from  man,  and  make  Him  unlike  His 
creatures,  are  the  ones  which  people  too  often  fancy  belong 
to  the  glorious  side  of  His  character.  They  draw  distinc- 
tions between  "  grace"  and  "  glory,'*  and  think  that  the 
latter  applies  mainly  to  what  I  might  call  the  physical 
and  the  metaphysical,  and  less  to  the  moral,  attributes  of 
the  Divine  nature.  We  adore  power,  and  when  it  is  ex- 
panded to  infinity  we  think  that  it  is  the  glory  of  God. 
But  my  text  delivers  us  from  all  such  misconceptions. 
If  we  rightly  understand  it,  then  we  learn  this,  that  the  true 
heart  of  the  glory  is  tenderness  and  love.  Of  power  that 
weak  Man  hanging  on  the  cross  is  a  strange  embodiment ; 
but  if  we  learn  that  there  is  something  more  godlike 
in  God  than  power,  then  we  can  say,  as  we  look  upon 
Jesus  Christ :  **  Lo  I  this  is  our  God.  We  have  waited 
for  Him,  and  He  will  save  us.'*  Not  in  the  wisdom  that 
knows  no  growth,  not  in  the  knowledge  which  has  no 
border-land  of  ignorance  ringing  it  round  about,  not  in  the 
unwearied  might  of  His  arm,  not  in  the  exhaustless  energy 
of  His  being,  not  in  the  unslumbering  watchfulness  of  His 
all-seeing  eye,  not  in  that  awfiil  Presence  wheresoever 
ereatures  are,  not  in  any  or  in  all  of  these  lies  the  glory  •! 

T  2 


276  **THB  GOSPEL  OF  THE  GLORT 

God,  but  In  HIb  love.  These  are  the  fringes  of  the  bright- 
nesB  ;  this  is  the  central  blaze.  The  Gospel  is  the  Gospel 
of  the  glory  of  God,  because  it  is  all  summed  up  in  the 
one  word, — "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His 
only  begotten  Son.** 

II. — Now,  in  the  next  place,  the  revelation  of  God  in 
Christ  is  the  blessedness  of  God. 

We  are  come  here  into  places  where  we  fee  bnt  very 
dimly,  and  it  becomes  us  to  speak  very  cautiously.  Only 
as  we  are  led  by  the  Divine  teaching  may  we  affirm  at  all. 
But  it  cannot  be  unwise  to  accept  in  simple  literality 
utterances  of  Scripture,  however  they  may  seem  to  strike 
U8  as  strange.  And  so  I  would  say — the  philosopher's 
God  may  be  all-sufficient  and  unemotional,  the  Bible's 
God  "  delighteth  in  mercy,"  rejoiceth  in  His  gifts,  and  is 
glad  when  men  accept  them.  It  is  something,  surely, 
amid  all  the  griefs  and  sorrows  of  this  sorrow-haunted 
and  devil-hunted  world,  to  rise  to  this  lofty  region  and  to 
feel  that  there  ig  a  living  personal  Joy  at  the  heart  of  the 
universe.  If  we  went  no  further,  to  me  there  is  infinite 
beauty  and  mighty  consolation  and  strength  in  that  one 
thought — ^the  happy  God.  He  is  not,  as  some  ways  of 
representing  Him  figure  Him  to  be,  what  the  older  as- 
tronomers thought  the  sun  was,  a  great  cold  orb,  black 
and  frigid  at  the  heart,  though  the  source  and  centre  of 
light  and  warmth  to  the  system.  But  He  Himself  is  Joy, 
or  if  we  dare  not  venture  on  that  word,  which  brings  with 
it  earthly  associations,  and  suggests  the  possibility  of 
alteration — He  is  the  blessed  God.  And  the  Psalmist  saw 
deeply  into  the  Divine  nature,  who,  not  contented  with 
hymning  His  praise  as  the  Possessor  of  the  fountain  of 
life,  and  the  Light  whereby  we  see  light,  exclaimed  in  an 
ecstasy  of  anticipation,  "  Thon  makest  na  to  drink  of  the 
rivers  of  Thy  pleasures." 

But  there  is  a  great  deal  more  than  that  here,  if  not  in 


OP  THB  HAPPT  GOD."  277 

the  word  itself,  at  least  in  its  connection,  which  eonnee- 
tion  seems  to  suggest  that  howsoever  the  Divine  nature 
must  be  supposed  to  be  blessed  in  its  own  absolute  and 
boundless  perfectness,  an  element  in  the  blessedness  of 
God  Himself  arises  from  His  self -communication  through 
the  Gospel  to  the  world.  All  love  delights  in  impart- 
ing. Why  should  not  God's  ?  On  the  lower  level  of 
human  affection  we  know  that  it  is  so,  and  on  the  highest 
level  we  may  with  all  reverence  venture  to  say,  The 
quality  of  that  mercy  ....  "is  twice  blest,"  and  that 
Divine  love  "  blesseth  Him  that  gives  and  them  that  take." 

He  created  a  universe  because  He  delights  in  His  works 
and  in  having  creatures  on  whom  He  can  lavish  Himself. 
He  "  rests  in  His  love,  and  rejoices  over  us  with  singing*' 
when  we  open  our  hearts  to  the  reception  of  His  light,  and 
learn  to  know  Him  as  He  has  declared  Himself  in  His 
Christ.  The  blessed  God  is  blessed  because  He  is  God. 
But  He  is  blessed  too  because  He  is  the  loving  and  there- 
fore the  giving  God. 

What  a  rock-firmnesB  such  a  thought  as  this  gives  to 
the  mercy  and  the  love  that  He  pours  out  upon  us  I  If  they 
were  evoked  by  our  worthiness  we  might  well  tremble,  but 
when  we  know,  according  to  the  grand  words  familiar  to 
many  of  ub,  that  it  is  His  nature  and  property  to  be  merciful, 
and  that  He  is  far  gladder  in  giving  than  we  can  be  in 
receiving,  then  we  may  be  sure  that  His  mercy  endureth 
for  ever,  and  that  it  is  the  very  necessity  of  His  being — and 
He  cannot  turn  His  back  upon  Himself— to  love,  to  pity,  to 
succour,  and  to  bless. 

III.— And  so,  lastly,  the  r«Ttlation  of  God  in  Christ  is 
good  news  for  us  all. 

"The  Gospel  of  the  glory  of  the  blessed  God."  How 
that  word  "  gospel  *'  has  got  tarnished  and  enfeebled  by 
constant  use  and  unreflective  use,  so  that  it  slips  glibly 
off  my   tongue  and   falls   without  producing  any  •ffeot 


278  "THE  GOSPEL  OF  THE  GLORY  OP  THE  HAPPY  GOD." 

apon  your  hearts.  It  needs  to  be  freshened  up  by  con- 
sidering what  really  it  means.  It  means  this :  here  are 
we  like  men  shut  up  in  a  beleaguered  city,  hopeless,  help- 
less, with  no  power  to  break  out  or  to  raise  the  seige ; 
provisions  failing,  death  certain.  Some  of  you  older  men 
and  women  remember  how  that  was  the  case  in  that 
awful  siege  of  Paris,  in  the  Franco-German  War,  and 
what  expedients  were  adopted  in  order  to  get  some  com- 
munication from  without.  And  here  to  ns,  prisoned, 
comes,  as  it  did  to  them,  a  despatch  borne  under  a  Dove's 
wing,  and  the  message  is  this  : — God  is  love ;  and  that 
you  may  know  that  He  is,  He  has  sent  you  His  Son  Who 
died  on  the  Cross,  the  sacrifice  for  a  world's  sin.  Believe 
it  and  trust  it,  and  all  your  transgressions  will  pass 
away. 

My  brother,  is  not  that  good  news?  Is  it  not  the 
good  news  that  you  need — the  news  of  a  Father,  of 
pardon,  of  hope,  of  love,  of  strength,  of  purity,  of  Heaven  ? 
Does  it  not  meet  our  fears,  our  forebodings,  our  wants  at 
every  point  ?  It  comes  to  you.  What  do  you  do  with  it  ? 
Do  you  welcome  it  eagerly,  do  you  clutch  it  to  your 
hearts,  do  you  say, "  This  is  my  Gospel "  ?  Oh  I  let  me  be- 
seech you,  welcome  the  message  ;  do  not  turn  away  from 
the  Word  from  Heaven,  which  will  bring  life  and  blessed- 
ness to  all  your  hearts  !  Some  of  you  have  turned  away 
long  enough,  some  of  you,  perhaps,  are  fighting  with  the 
temptation  to  do  so  again  even  now.  Let  me  press  that 
ancient  Gospel  upon  your  acceptance,  that  Christ  the  Son  of 
God  has  died  for  you,  and  lives  to  bless  and  help  you 
Take  it  and  live  !  So  shall  you  find  that  "  as  cold  water 
to  a  thirsty  soul,  so  is  this  best  of  all  news  from  the  far 
eountry.** 


**LIKE   PRECIOUS  FAITH/* 


SERMON  XXIIL 


"LIXB  ^RBOIOUB  FAITB.** 

"lite  indoai  ffetth  wtth  Mk -•  fHv  L  li 


BOlfB  #f  fffk  may  be  aware  that  many  scholars  hare  denied 
that  this  Epistle  was  written  by  the  Apostle  Peter.  There 
are  a  great  many  reasons,  which  I  think  valid,  for  accept- 
ing it  as  genuine,  and  amongst  them  is  the  occurrence  of 
oertain  characteristic  phrases  in  both  of  the  Epistles  which 
go  by  that  Apostle's  name. 

This  word  '*  precious  *'  is  one  of  these.  We  read  in  the 
first  Epistle  of  *'  the  trial  of  your  faith  being  much  more 
precious  than  of  gold  that  perisheth,  though  it  be  tried 
with  fire."  And  a  few  verses  farther  on,  we  read,  of  ^  the 
precious  blood  of  Christ."  In  the  next  chapter  we  have 
a  quotation  from  Isaiah  interpreted  of  Christ — **  A  chief 
corner-stone,  elect,  precious,"  which  •*  preciousness," 
according  to  the  more  accurate  rendering  of  the  Revised 
Version,  is  in  the  next  verse  said  to  belong  to  believers. 
In  the  second  Epistle  we  find  this  phrase  of  our  text, 
•*  like  precious  faith,"  and  in  an  immediately  following 
▼erse  we  read  of  "  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises." 

Thus  there  rum  through  both  letters  the  use  of  the  same 
tharacteristio  and  somewhat  indefinite   epithet,   which 


282  ••lilKB  PRECIOUS  PAITH.** 

expresses  only  the  Apostle*s  lofty  idea  of  the  value  of  the 
themes  with  which  he  is  dealing.  The  old  man  getting 
near  the  end  of  his  life  had  come  to  think  that  the  really 
valuable  things  were  not  the  things  which  can  be  handled, 
counted  and  weighed ;  that  the  truly  precious  things  were 
these — Christ,  His  blood,  God's  promises,  and  the  faith 
which  grasps  these  three.  These  are  worth  all  the  rest ; 
and  as  for  the  rest — well,  if  you  have  them  you  are  not 
much  the  better,  and  if  you  have  not  them  you  are  very 
little  the  worse. 

But  my  text  not  only  speaks  of  ^^ precious  faith,"  but  of 
^^  like  precious  idXila.  \fiih.  \is,y  And  the  question  is,  who 
are  the  two  classes  whose  faith  is  here  declared  to  be  of 
equal  worth  ?  One  answer  may  be  that  the  "  us  "  means 
Peter  and  his  brother  Apostles,  and  if  so,  then  we  have 
here  a  declaration  of  the  substantial  identity  and  equal 
value  of  the  faith  of  all  Christian  people,  whether  they 
hold  the  highest  office  or  fill  the  most  undistinguished 
place  in  the  Church. 

But  more  probably  the  two  classes  referred  to  here  are 
the  Gentile  Christians  to  whom  the  letter  was  addressed, 
and  the  Jewish  Christians,  with  whom  Peter  classes  him- 
self. In  the  name  of  all  the  latter  he  welcomes  the  "  un- 
circumcision"  into  the  unity  of  the  Church,  and  recognises 
them  as  possessors  of  the  same  faith,  and,  therefore,  en- 
riched with  the  same  salvation.  He  proclaims  that  the 
wall  of  partition  is  broken  down,  and  stretches  his  hand 
across  its  ruins  to  grasp  his  brethren's  hands.  He  is  back 
again  to  the  old  lesson  which  he  learned  on  the  house-top 
at  Joppa  and  in  the  dwelling  of  Cornelius.  It  is  the  reitera- 
tion of  his  own  argument  with  which  he  had  quieted  the 
suspicions  of  the  Church  at  Jerusalem  when  they  heard 
of  his  baptism  of  Cornelius.  "Forasmuch  then  as  God 
gave  them  the  like  gift  as  He  did  unto  us,  who  believed 
on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  what  was  I,  that  I  could  with- 


**hlKE  PRECIOUS  FAITH.**  283 

•tand  God  ?  "  Although  the  old  national  bigotry  had  con- 
quered him  for  awhile,  and  he  had  been  unfaithful  to  his 
earlier  convictions,  he  has  returned  to  them,  and.  is  side 
by  side  with  "  his  beloved  brother  Paul"  in  the  assertion 
of  the  abolition  of  all  national  prerogative,  and  the  inclu- 
Bion  on  equal  terms  within  the  Church  of  all  men,  be  they 
of  what  race  they  may,  if  only  they  possess  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ. 

Such  being  the  force  and  bearing  of  these  words,  we 
may  use  them  as  suggesting  some  not  unimportant  points, 
which  throw  light  upon  that  much  spoken  about,  but  often 
dimly  understood,  subject  of  Faith,  especially  in  regard  of 
its  object,  its  value,  and  its  substantial  identity  under  the 
most  different  forms. 

I.— Consider  then,  first,  the  object  of  faith,  as  here 
defined. 

The  Authorised  Version  reads,  "To  them  that  have 
obtained  like  precious  faith  with  us  throitgh  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  and  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ."  But  the 
Revised  Version  reads  more  accurately,  "  faith  ....  in 
th§  righteousness."  The  former  rendering  is  admissible, 
and  would  give  the  meaning  that  God's  righteousness 
revealed  in  Jesus  Christ  gave  occasion  for  our  faith,  which 
would  be  quite  true,  inasmuch  as  if  there  had  been  no 
righteousness  revealed,  there  could  have  been  no  faith. 
But  that  meaning  is  less  satisfactory  than  the  other,  which 
regards  the  righteousness  as  being  the  object  of  our  faith. 
As  Paul  says,  "  The  righteousness  of  God  from  faith  is 
revealed  unto  faith.** 

Now  the  object  of  faith  is  much  more  frequently  said 
in  the  New  Testament  to  be  Jesus  Christ,  and  it  is  all-im- 
portant to  keep  clearly  in  view  that  He,  the  personal 
Christ,  is  the  true  and  proper  object  of  our  faith.  Faith 
fs  trust,  and  the  object  of  trust  must  be  a  person.  We  may 
say  that  we  trust  a  promise,  but  that  really  means  that  w« 


184  «LIKB  PRECIOUS  FAITH.** 

trnst  him  who  has  made  it.  We  may  believe  a  creed,  but 
for  trust  we  must  have  a  living  God  of  Whom  the  creed 
speaks.  It  is  Christ  Himself,  then,  in  the  sweetness  and 
gracionsness  of  His  character,  in  the  sacrifice  of  His  death, 
and  in  the  glory  of  His  risen  life.  Whom  we  trust  in,  and 
by  trusting  in  Whom  we  live. 

That  principle  is  important  as  bringing  clearly  into  view 
how  f  aitk  in  Christ  is  strictly  parallel  with  our  trust  in  one 
another  It  is  the  very  same  act  which  knits  us  to  Christ, 
and  to  God  in  Christ,  and  which  knits  ns  to  one  another. 
It  is  f<\ith  which  makes  it  possible  that  the  world  should 
go  on  at  all.  The  same  confidence  with  which  men  of 
business  rely  upon  each  other  in  their  transactions,  the 
same  confidence  with  which  we  in  our  families  safely 
>ust  in  the  love  and  truth  of  wife  or  husband,  friend  or 
^hild,  when  directed  to  Jesus  Christ  becomes  the  spring 
and  the  heart  of  all  religion. 

What  tragic  folly  and  waste  it  is  that  we  should  squander 
the  treasure  of  our  trust  on  such  unworthy  objects,  when 
we  might  safely  lodge  it  in  the  safe  keeping  of  His 
Almighty  hands  !  The  vine  which  trails  along  the  ground 
and  twines  its  tendrils  round  any  rubbish  which  it  may 
come  upon,  is  sure  to  be  trodden  under  foot.  If  it  lift  it- 
self from  the  earth  and  fling  its  clasping  rings  round  the 
shaft  of  the  Cross,  its  stem  will  not  be  bruised,  and  its 
clusters  will  be  heavier  and  sweeter.  The  tendrils  which 
anchor  it  to  the  rubbish  heap  are  the  same  as  those  which 
clasp  it  to  the  Cross.  The  trust  with  which  we  lean  upon 
the  bruised  reeds  of  human  help  is  the  same  as  that  with 
which  we  lean  upon  the  iron  pillar  of  a  Saviour's  aid. 
Faith  is  trust,  and  its  object  is  not  a  creed,  but  a  person, 
whom  it  is  the  work  of  all  creeds  to  make  known. 

That  being  understood,  then  comes  the  importance  of 
the  words  of  my  text.  A  man  may  say  : — **  Oh  I  I  trust 
in  Christ,  I  am  a  Christian  ; ''  but  the  whole  question  is : 


''like  precious  faith."  285 

— What  Ohrist  is  it  that  yon  are  tnuting  in.  and  what  is 
it  that  you  are  trusting  to  Him  for  ?  So,  in  order  to  make 
definite  the  vagueness  which  may  attach  to  the  thought  of 
faith  in  a  person,  unless  we  declare  what  the  person  is, 
we  have  to  keep  in  view  such  sayings  as  this  of  my  text. 
The  Apostle  Paul,  for  example,  speaks  in  one  place  of 
"  faith  in  His  blood,"  and  his  brother  Peter  here  speaks 
of  **  faith  in  the  righteousness  of  God  and  Christ."  If  we 
take  these  two  definitions  of  the  object  of  faith,  they  ex- 
plain what  true  faith  in  Christ  has  to  lay  hold  of.  If  you 
are  truly  trusting  in  Christ  you  are  trusting  in  His  blood  ; 
if  you  are  truly  trusting  in  Christ  you  are  trusting  in  His 
righteousness.  If  your  faith,  so-called,  lays  hold  on* 
Christ  Whose  blood  is  nothing  to  you,  Whose  righteous- 
ness is  to  you  only  example  and  stimulus,  and  no  more, 
my  brother  1  you  have  not  got  the  "  like  precious  faith" 
with  those  of  whom  the  Apostle  is  the  representative. 
The  Christ  Whom  we  must  trust  is  the  Christ  Whose 
blood  cleanses  from  all  sin.  Whose  righteousness  makes  us 
righteous.  And  the  great  truths  that  He,  by  His  perfect 
obedience,  has  fulfilled  the  law,  that  by  His  death  we  are 
justified,  and  that  by  His  indwelling  in  us  we  are  sancti- 
fied, are  all  summed  up  in  this  word  of  my  text,  which 
declares  the  object  of  faith  to  be  the  righteousness  of  God 
and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

There  is  much  need,  I  think,  in  these  days,  when  so 
much  foolish  impatience  of  doctrine  has  crept  into  the 
professing  Church,  and  when  some  men  are  so  afraid  of 
anything  that  savours  of  that  great  truth  of  a  dying  Christ 
Whose  blood  is  our  righteousness,  to  say  plainly  that  not 
only  must  our  faith  grasp  Jesus,  but  that  our  faith  must 
grasp  this  Jesus, — the  Jesus  that  died  for  our  sins  and  was 
raised  again  for  our  justification — if  we  are  ever  to  be 
"  found  in  Him,  not  having  our  own  righteousness,  which 
if  of  the  law,  but  that  which  is  through  the  faith  of  Chrisk" 


185  ""LIKB  PBJEIUIOUS  FAITS. 

II.*-Kow»  still  further  consider  th«  worth  of  this 
faith. 

What  is  the  value  of  faith  ?  Why  is  it  so  precioup  ?  I 
have  already  pointed  out  that  in  both  these  letters  certain 
things  are  declared  to  be  precious,  and  I  enumerated  th«m 
as  being  Christ  Himself,  Christ's  blood,  and  God's  great 
promises.  These  are  precious  in  one  way  by  virtue  of 
their  own  inherent  value.  But  faith  is  only  precious 
because  of  that  which  it  lays  hold  ol 

So  that  is  the  first  item  in  the  preciousness  of  faith — its 
worth  as  a  channel.  You  remember  that  in  one  place  we 
read  about  **  the  door  of  faith."  What  is  the  worth  of  a 
door  ?  It  is  only  a  hole  in  a  wall.  The  value  of  the 
door  is  in  that  which  it  admits  or  in  that  which  it  is 
the  means  of  our  entering  into.  So  faith  is  precious, 
not  because  of  anything  in  itself,  for  it  is  nothing  in  it- 
self, but  because  of  what  it  grips  and  grasps,  and  of  what 
it  admits  into  our  hearts. 

Just  as  the  hand  of  a  dyer  that  has  been  working  with 
crimson  will  be  crimson  ;  just  as  the  b^nd  that  has  been 
holding  fragrant  perfumes  will  be  perfumed  ;  so  my  faith, 
which  is  only  the  hand  by  which  I  lay  hold  upon  precious 
things,  will  take  the  tincture  and  the  fragrance  of  what 
it  grasps.  A  bit  of  earthenware  piping  may  be  worth  a 
few  pence  in  intrinsic  value,  but  if  it  is  the  means  by 
which  water  is  brought  into  a  besieged  city  which  else 
would  perish  with  thirst,  who  will  estimate  its  worth  ? 
In  like  manner,  faith  is  precious  because  it  brings  God  in 
Christ,  and  the  blood  of  Christ  and  the  promises  of  Christ, 
all  flooding  into  my  soul  to  fill  it  with  life,  and  fruitf ul- 
ness,  and  refreshing.  It  is  the  hand  which  lays  hold  on 
the  hand  of  God  that  He  may  hold  me  up.  It  is  the 
taking  down  of  the  shutters  that  the  sunshine  may  come 
in.  Which  lights  the  room,  the  removal  of  the  shutters  or 
th«  sunshine  f    Which  is  the  precious  thing,  the  faith  or 


"LIKE  PRBCIOUS  FAITH."  287 

the  Christ  that  rises  on  the  faithfnl  soul  with  "  healing  in 
His  beame"  ?  It  is  the  grasping  of  the  poles  of  the 
electric  battery,  powerful  only  as  bringing  me  into  contact 
with  the  quick  and  quickening  impnlse.  Faith  brings  all 
riches  to  me,  and  therefore  is  itself  gilded  with  some  reflec- 
tion of  their  lustre,  and  partakes  of  their  preciousness. 

Then  again  we  may  consider  the  worth  of  faith  as  a 
defence.  We  read  of  the  "shield  of  faith."  How  is 
faith  valuable  as  a  shield  ?  Has  it  any  power  of  protec- 
tion in  itself  ?  Am  I  any  the  safer  merely  because  I  am 
confident  that  I  am  ?  A  man  may  have  an  obstinate 
confidence  which  is  misplaced  and  may  lull  him  into  a 
fatal  security.  I  do  not  become  safe  by  believing  myself 
to  be  go,  however  strong  may  be  the  imagination  or  the 
fancy.  All  depends  upon  what  it  is  that  1  am  relying 
on.  So,  then,  faith  is  no  shield  in  itself  ;  it  has  no  power 
to  protect  you  from  anything,  either  from  dangers 
without  or  dangers  within.  "The  Lord  God  is  a  Sun 
and  Shield.  0  Lord  of  Hosts,  Blessed  is  the  man  that 
trusteth  in  Thee."  Thrust  your  arm,  howsoever  feeble 
it  may  be,  through  the  handles  of  that  great  Buckler,  and 
hide  yourself  behind  Him,  and  "He  will  cover  your 
head  in  the  day  of  battle." 

Loose  things  on  the  deck  of  a  ship  will  be  blown  over- 
board when  the  storm  comes.  There  is  only  one  way  to 
keep  them  firm,  and  that  is  to  lash  them  to  something 
that  is  fixed.  It  is  not  the  bit  of  rope  that  gives  them 
security,  but  it  is  the  stable  thing  to  which  they  are  lashed. 
Lash  yourselves  to  Christ  by  faith,  and  whatever  storm 
or  tempest  comes,  you  will  be  safe,  and  stand  firm  and 
immovable.  Your  faith  is  precious  because  it  knits  you 
to  His  immortal  stability. 

And  in  like  manner  we  may  consider  the  worth  of 
fiiith  as  a  purifier.  When  Peter  had  to  defend  himself 
before  the  Church  in  Jerusalem  for  his  action  in  regard 


288  "liiKB  PRBOioas  faith." 

to  Comeliuf,  hii  one  plea  wai,  *'  God  .  .  .  put  no  differ* 
ence  between  ns  and  them,  porifylngr  their  hearts  by 
faith."  But  how  does  faith  purify  ?  Is  there  anything 
in  my  confidence  which  will  make  me  pure  ?  No  I  there 
is  no  moral  efficacy  in  the  mere  act  of  trust.  All  dependi 
upon  what  it  is  that  you  are  trusting  to.  You  will  get 
like  the  object  of  your  confidence.  If  you  are  trusting 
to  money  you  will  get  jaundiced  with  it.  If  you  are 
trusting  to  creatures,  the  great  law  will  come  true  about 
you  which  has  determined  the  degradation  of  all  idola- 
trous nations : — "  they  that  make  them  are  like  unto 
them,  so  is  every  one  that  trusteth  in  them."  As  the 
man*8  trust,  so  will  the  man  one  day  become.  The  only 
faith  that  purifies  is  faith  in  Him  Who  is  pure.  My 
faith  makes  me  clean  only  in  the  measure  in  which,  and 
because,  it  joins  me  to  the  Christ  Who  Himself  is 
righteous,  and  gives  me  possession  of  all  the  motives  to 
purity  which  love  to  Him  can  set  in  action,  and  of  all  the 
power  for  purifying  which  the  gift  of  His  Spirit  can  bring. 
Faith  is  the  believing  contemplation  of  Christ  in  His 
beauty  and  graciousness,  and  every  man  that  hath  this 
confidence  in  Him  does  purify  himself,  because  He  is 
pure.  Faith  is  the  believing  appropriation  of  that  Divine 
Spirit  by  Whose  mighty  operation  alone  we  can  become 
holy  and  good.  And  so,  brethren,  all  the  value  of  faith 
comes  from  the  intrinsic  and  unspeakable  preciousness  of 
these  things  with  which  it  is  conversant. 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  my  text  suggests  to  us  the  sub- 
stantial identity  and  equal  preciousness  of  faith  in  all 
varieties  of  form  and  degree. 

If  we  adopt  the  view  that  the  Apostle  is  here  declaring, 
that  the  faith  of  the  Gentile  Christian  is  equally  precious 
with  that  of  the  Jew,  the  door  is  opened  for  the  recog- 
nition of  the  oneness  of  faith  under  the  extremest 
differeno^  of  form. 


"LIKE  PRECIOUS  FAITH."  289 

There  is  no  such  gulf  between  any  two  sects  of 
Christians  who  have  faith  in  the  blood  and  righteousness 
of  Christ,  as  there  was  between  the  Gentile  and  the 
Jewish  sections  of  the  primitive  Church  at  the  time  when 
this  Epistle  was  written.  And  yet,  says  Peter,  here  is  a 
bridge  that  can  be  thrown  across  that  deep  gulf,  for  on 
both  sides  of  it  faith  may  be  identical.  Let  us  learn  that 
two  men  who  both  alike  are  trusting  to  Jesus  Christ  as 
their  Saviour,  and  who  are  most  unlike  each  other  in  all 
other  respects,  in  creed,  in  culture,  in  general  outlook  on 
the  world,  in  disposition  and  character,  are  liker  each 
other  than  a  Christian  man  and  a  non-Christian,  who  in 
all  particulars  except  faith  are  as  like  as  twins.  The 
deepest  thing  in  every  man  that  has  it  is  his  faith  in 
Jesus  Christ,  and  likeness  in  that  brings  him  near  all 
others  who  have  it,  however  unlike  on  the  surface  their 
characteristics  may  be. 

But  now  do  not  let  us  run  away  with  the  lazy  charity, 
BO  called,  which  is  often  mere  poisonous  indifference  to 
truth.  I  will  go  as  far  as  any  man  in  recognising  the 
substantial  identity,  under  the  most  different  forms  of 
manifestation,  of  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  The  Quaker  on 
that  hand,  who  will  have  no  ritual  or  ceremony  at  all, 
and  the  Roman  Catholic  priest  on  the  other,  on  the  steps 
of  the  altar,  with  the  incense-smoke  curling  about  him  as 
he  sings  Mass,  may  be  brothers.  And  all  manner  of 
differences  in  opinion,  in  politics,  in  culture,  in  race 
which  may  separate  men  from  men,  are  like  the  cracks 
upon  the  surface  of  a  bit  of  rock,  which  are  an  inch  deep 
while  the  solid  mass  goes  down  a  thousand  feet.  But  I 
am  not  going  to  pretend  that  the  man  whose  Christ  did 
not  die  for  him,  and  whose  Christ  gives  him  no  righteous- 
ness in  which  he  can  stand  before  God,  possesses  "  like 
precious  faith  unto  us."  To  say  that  he  does  is  to  worship 
charity  at  the  expense  of  truth,  and  ta  be  a  traitor  to 

u 


290  "LIKE  PRECIOUS    FAITH.** 

the  Master  for  the  sake  of  seeming  to  be  friendly  with  those 
who  are  not  His  subjects.  My  brother !  The  widest 
charity  has  no  vagueness ;  all  that  love  the  Lord  Jesas 
Christ  in  sincerity  are  one,  but  it  most  be  the  Lord  Jesns 
Christ  that  they  love. 

And  then  in  like  manner,  if  my  text  have  the  other 
application  to  which  I  have  adverted,  that  of  the  identity 
in  faith  between  the  Apostles  and  the  humblest  believers, 
that  application  teaches  us  the  other  lesson  of  the  sub- 
stantial identity  of  faith  under  all  degrees  of  attainment. 
The  poor  man's  half -sovereign,  which  stands  between  him 
and  want — his  "  one  ewe  lamb,"  is  made  of  the  same  gold 
as  Rothschild's  millions.  Each  tiny  particle  of  a  magnet, 
if  it  be  smitten  off  the  whole  mass,  is  magnetic,  and  sends 
out  influence  from  its  two  little  poles.  And  so  the 
smallest  and  the  feeblest  faith  is  one  in  character,  and  one 
in  intrinsic  value  with  the  loftiest  and  superbest.  Only, 
as  is  the  measure  of  the  man's  faith,  so  will  be  the 
measure  of  his  possession  of  the  precious  things. 

Therefore,  dear  brethren,  seeing  that  we  may  all  have 
that  faith  which,  whether  it  be  as  a  grain  of  mustard-seed 
or  whether  it  be  grown  to  be  greater  than  all  herbs,  is  yet 
one  in  its  mysterious  life  ;  seeing  that  we  may  all  possess 
it,  and  that  there  are  infinitely  various  degrees  in  which 
we  may  possess  it,  and  consequently  infinite  increase 
possible  in  the  good  things  it  brings  to  us,  let  us  all  take 
that  old  prayer,  and  with  it  the  always  appropriate  confes- 
sion, "  Lord  I  I  believe,  help  Thou  my  unbelief. "  And 
then,  like  this  very  Apostle,  if,  standing  upon  the  stormy 
billows,  when  our  hearts  are  ready  to  fail  us,  we  "  stretch 
lame  hands  of  faith,"  and  grasp  the  strong  Hand  which 
will  be  stretched  out  to  us,  we  shall  be  held  up.  His 
strong  hand,  not  my  weakness ;  His  grasp,  not  mine ; 
Christ,  not  my  faith  in  Christ,  .will  keep  me  from  falling 
and  present  me  faultless  before  the  presence  of  Hli  glory. 


SELF-MUTILATION  FOR  SELF-PRESERVATION. 


SERMON  XXIV. 


6BLF-MUTILAT10N   FOR   SBLF-PRESEIiyATION. 

"If  thy  hand  or  thy  toot  oaoBeth  thee  to  itamble,  oat  it  ofl,iand  otst  It  tntm  thee." 
>Matt.  XYiii.  8.  (R.V.) 

No  person  or  thing  can  do  onp  characters  as  mnch  harm 
as  we  ourselves  can  do.  Indeed,  none  can  do  them  any 
harm  but  ourselves.  For  men  may  put  stumbling-blocks 
in  our  way,  but  it  is  we  who  make  them  stumbling- 
blocks.  The  obstacle  in  the  path  would  do  us  no  hurt 
if  it  were  not  for  the  erring  foot,  nor  the  attractive  prize 
if  it  were  not  for  the  hand  that  itched  to  lay  hold  of  it, 
nor  the  glittering  bauble  if  it  were  not  for  the  eye  that 
kindled  at  the  sight  of  it.  So  our  Lord  here,  having  been 
speaking  about  the  men  that  put  stumbling-blocks  in  the 
way  of  His  little  ones,  draws  the  net  closer  and  bids  UB 
look  at  home.  A  solemn  woe  of  Divine  judgment  is 
denounced  on  those  who  cause  His  followers  to  stumble. 
Let  us  leave  God  to  execute  that,  and  be  sure  that  we  have 
no  share  in  their  guilt,  but  let  us  ourselves  be  the  execu- 
tioners of  the  judgment  upon  the  things  in  ourselves 
which  alone  give  the  stumbling  blocks  which  others  put 
before  us  in  their  fatal  power. 

There  is  extraordinary  energy  in  these  words.    Solemnly 
ihey  ftre  repeated  twice  here,  verbatim ;   solemnly  they 


294     BBLF-MCTILATiO»   FOR  SELF-PRESBUVATIOK. 

are  repeated  verbatim  three  times  in  Mark's  edition.  The 
urgent  stringency  of  the  command,  the  terrible  plainness 
of  the  alternative  put  forth  by  the  lips  that  could  say 
nothing  harsh,  and  the  fact  that  the  very  same  injunction 
appears  in  a  wholly  different  connection  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  show  us  how  profoundly  important  our  Lord 
felt  the  principle  to  be  which  He  was  here  laying  down. 

We  mark  these  three  point*  First,  the  case  supposed, 
"  If  thy  hand  or  thy  foot  cause  thee  to  stumble."  Then 
the  sharp,  prompt  remedy  enjoined,  "  cut  them  off  and 
cast  them  from  thee."  Then  the  solemn  motive  by 
which  it  is  enforced,  "  It  is  better  for  thee  to  enter  into 
life  maimed  than,  being  a  whole  man,  to  be  cast  into 
hell-fire." 

I. — First,  then,  as  to  the  case  supposed. 

Hand  ahd  foot  and  eye  are,  of  course,  regarded  as 
organs  of  the  inward  self,  and  symbols  of  its  tastes  and 
capacities.  We  may  perhaps  see  in  them  the  familiar 
distinction  between  the  practical  and  the  theoretical : — 
hand  and  foot  being  instruments  of  action,  and  the  eye 
the  organ  of  perception.  Our  Lord  takes  an  extreme 
case.  If  members  of  the  body  are  to  be  amputated  and 
plucked  out  should  they  cause  us  to  stumble,  much  more 
are  associations  to  be  abandoned  and  occupations  to  be 
relinquished  and  pleasures  to  be  forsaken,  if  these  draw 
us  away.  But  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  the  whole  strin- 
gency of  the  commandment  rests  upon  that  if,  **  If  they 
cause  thee  to  stumble,"  then,  and  not  else,  amputate.  The 
powers  are  natural,  the  operation  of  them  is  perfectly 
innocent,  but  a  man  may  be  ruined  by  innocent  things, 
tnd,  says  Christ,  if  that  process  is  begun,  then,  and  only 
then,  does  My  exhortation  come  into  force. 

Now,  all  that  solemn  thought  of  a  possible  injurious 
issue  of  innocent  occupations,  rests  upon  the  principles, 
that  onr  nature  has  an  ideal  order,  so  as  that  some  parts 


BBLP-MUTILATION  FOR  SBLP-PRBSBRVATION.     295 

of  It  are  to  be  suppressed  and  some  are  to  rule,  and  that 
there  are  degrees  of  importance  in  men's  pursuits,  and 
that  where  the  lower  interfere  and  clog  the  operations  of 
the  higher,  there  they  are  harmful.  And  so  the  only 
wisdom  is  to  excise  and  cut  them  off. 

We  see  illustrations  in  abundance  every  day.  There 
are  plenty  of  people  that  are  being  ruined  in  regard  of  the 
highest  purposes  of  their  lives,  simply  by  an  over-indul- 
gence in  lower  occupations  which  in  themselves  may  be 
perfectly  right.  Here  is  a  young  woman  that  spends  so 
much  of  her  day  in  reading  novels  that  she  has  no  time 
to  look  after  the  house  and  help  her  mother.  Here  is  a 
young  man  so  given  to  athletics  that  his  studies  are 
neglected — and  so  you  may  go  all  round  the  circle,  and 
find  instances  of  the  way  in  which  innocent  things,  and 
the  excessive  or  unwise  exercise  of  natural  faculties,  are 
destroying  men.  And  much  more  is  that  the  case  in  re- 
gard of  religion,  which  is  the  highest  object  of  pursuit, 
and  in  regard  of  those  capacities  and  powers  by  which  we 
lay  hold  of  God.  These  are  to  be  ministered  to  by  the 
rest,  and  if  there  be  in  my  nature  or  in  the  order  of  my 
life  something  which  is  drawing  away  to  itself  the 
energy  that  ought  to  go  in  that  other  direction,  then,  how- 
soever innocent  it  may  be,  per  se,  it  is  harming  me.  It  is 
a  wen  that  is  sucking  all  the  vital  force  into  itself,  and 
turning  it  into  poison.  And  there  is  only  one  cure  for  it, 
and  that  is  the  knife. 

Then  there  is  another  point  to  be  observed  in  this  case 
supposed,  and  that  is  that  the  whole  matter  is  left  to  the 
determination  of  personal  experience.  Nobody  else  has  a 
right  to  decide  for  you  what  it  is  safe  and  wise  for  you  to 
do  in  regard  of  thir^gs  which  are  not  in  themselves  wrong. 
If  they  are  wrong  in  themselves,  of  course  the  consider- 
ation of  consequences  is  out  of  place  altogether ;  but  if 
they  be  not  wrong  in  themselves,  then  it  is  yon  that  must 


296    BBLF-MUTILATION  FOB  BELV-FRSSEBVATIOH. 

settle  whether  they  are  legitimate  for  yon  or  not.  Do  not 
let  your  Christian  liberty  be  interfered  with  by  other 
people^s  dictation  in  regad*d  of  this  matter.  How  often 
you  hear  people  say,  "  /  could  not  do  it** ;  meaning  there- 
by, "therefore  he  ought  not  to  do  it  I"  But  that  inference 
is  altogether  illegitimate.  True,  there  are  limitations  of 
our  Christian  liberty  in  regard  of  things  indifferent  and 
innocent.  Paul  lays  down  the  most  important  of  these  in 
three  sentences.  "  All  things  are  lawful  for  me,  but  all 
things  are  not  expedient."  "All  things  are  lawful  for 
me,  but  all  things  edify  not."  You  must  think  of  your 
brethren  as  well  as  of  yourself.  "  All  things  are  lawful 
for  me,  yet  will  I  not  be  brought  under  the  power  of 
any."  Keep  master  of  them,  and  rather  abstain  altogether 
than  become  their  slave.  But  these  three  limitations 
being  observed,  then,  in  regard  of  all  such  matters,  no- 
body else  can  prescribe  for  me  or  ^ou.  "  To  his  own 
Master  he  standeth  or  falleth." 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  do  not  you  be  led  away  into 
things  that  damage  you  because  some  other  man  does 
them,  as  he  supposes,  without  injury.  "  Happy  is  he  that 
condemneth  not  himself  in  that  thing  which  he  alloweth." 
There  are  some  Christian  people  who  are  simply  very  un- 
scrupulous and  think  themselves  very  strong  ;  and  whose 
consciences  are  not  more  enlightened,  but  less  sensitive 
than  the  "  narrow-minded  brethren"  upon  whom  they 
look. 

And  so,  dear  friend,  you  ought  to  take  the  world — to  in- 
hale it,  if  I  may  so  say,  as  patients  do  chloroform  ;  only 
you  must  be  your  own  doctor  and  keep  your  own  fingers 
on  your  pulse,  and  watch  the  first  sign  of  failure  there? 
and  take  no  more.  When  the  safety  lamps  begin  to  burn 
blue  you  may  be  quite  sure  there  is  choke-damp  about; 
and  when  Christian  men  and  women  begin  to  find  prayer 
wearisome,  and  religious  thoughts  dull,  and  the  remem- 


BBLF-MUTILATION  FOB  SBLF-PRBSERVATION .      297 

b ranee  of  God  an  effort  or  a  pain,  then,  whatever  anybody 
else  may  do,  it  is  time  for  them  to  pnll  up.  *'  If  thy  hand 
offend  thee,"  never  mind  though  your  brother's  hand  is 
not  offending  him,  do  the  necessary  thing  for  your  health, 
"  cut  it  off  and  cast  it  from  you." 

But  of  course  there  must  be  caution  and  oommon-sense 
in  the  application  of  such  a  principle.  It  does  not  mean 
that  we  are  to  abandon  all  things  that  are  susceptible  of 
abuse,  for  everything  is  so  ;  and  if  we  are  to  regulate  our 
conduct  by  such  a  rule,  it  is  not  the  amputation  of  a  hand 
that  will  be  sufficient.  We  may  as  well  cut  off  our  heads 
at  once,  and  go  out  of  the  world  altogether ;  for  every- 
thing is  capable  of  being  thus  abused. 

Nor  does  the  injunction  mean  that  unconditionally  we 
are  to  abandon  all  occupations  in  which  there  is  danger, 
tt  can  never  be  a  duty  to  shirk  a  duty  because  it  is 
dangerous.  And  sometimes  it  is  as  much  a  Christian 
man*s  duty  to  go  into,  and  to  stand  in  positions  that  are 
full  of  temptation  and  danger,  as  it  is  a  fireman's  business 
to  go  into  a  burning  house  at  the  risk  of  suffocation. 
There  were  saints  in  Caesar's  household,  flowers  that  grew 
on  a  dunghill,  and  they  were  not  bidden  to  abandon  their 
place  because  it  was  full  of  possible  danger  to  their  souls. 
Sometimes  Christ  sets  His  sentinels  in  places  where  the 
bullets  fly  very  thick ;  and  if  we  are  posted  in  such  a  place 
— and  we  all  are  so  some  time  or  other  in  our  lives — the 
only  thing  for  us  is  to  stand  our  ground  until  the  relieving 
guard  comes,  and  to  trust  that  He  said  a  truth  that  was 
always  to  be  true,  when  He  sent  out  His  servants  to  their 
dangerous  work,  with  the  assurance  that  if  they  drank  any 
deadly  thing  it  should  not  hurt  them. 

II.— So  much,  then,  for  the  first  of  the  points  here. 
Now  a  word,  in  the  second  place,  as  to  the  sharp  remedy 
enjoined.     "  Cut  it  off  and  cast  it  from  thee." 

Entire  excision  is  the  only  safety.     I  myself  am  to  be 


298     SBLF-HUTILATION  FOR  8BLF-PRESERVATI0V. 

the  agent  of  that.  I  am  to  put  my  hand  npon  the  block, 
and  with  the  other  hand  to  grasp  the  axe  and  strike.  That 
is  to  say,  we  are  to  suppress  capacities,  to  abandon  pur- 
suits, to  break  with  associates  when^we  find  that  they  are 
damaging  our  spiritual  life  and  hindering  our  likeness  to 
Jesus  Christ. 

That  is  plain  common-sense.  Just  as  in  regard  of 
physical  intoxication,  it  is  a  great  deal  easier  to  abstain 
altogether  than  to  take  a  very  little  and  then  stop.  The 
very  fumes  will  sometimes  drive  a  reclaimed  drunkard 
into  a  bout  of  dissipation  that  will  last  for  weeks.  There- 
fore, the  only  safety  is  in  entire  abstinence.  The  rule 
holds  in  regard  to  every-day  life.  Every  man  has  to  give 
up  a  great  many  things  if  he  means  to  succeed  in  one, 
and  has  to  be  a  man  of  one  pursuit  if  anything  worth 
doing  is  to  be  done.  Christian  men  especially  have  to 
adopt  that  principle,  and  shear  off  a  great  deal  that  is 
perfectly  legitimate,  in  order  that  they  may  keep  a  reserve 
of  strength  for  the  highest  things. 

True !  all  forms  of  life  are  capable  of  being  made 
Christian  service  and  Christian  discipline,  but  in  practice 
we  shall  find  that  if  we  are  earnestly  seeking  the  King- 
dom of  God  and  His  righteousness,  not  only  shall  we  lose 
our  taste  for  a  great  deal  that  is  innocent,  but  we  shall 
have,  whether  we  lose  our  taste  for  it  or  not — and  more 
imperatively  if  we  have  not  lost  our  taste  for  it  than  if 
we  have— to  give  up  allowable  things  in  order  that  with 
all  our  heart,  and  soul,  and  strength,  and  mind,  we  may 
love  and  serve  our  Master.  There  are  no  half -measures 
to  be  kept ;  the  only  thing  to  do  with  the  viper  is  to  shake 
it  off  into  the  fire  and  let  it  bum  there.  We  have  to 
empty  our  hands  of  earth's  trivialities  if  we  would  grasp 
Christ  with  them.  We  have  to  turn  away  our  eyes  from 
earth  if  we  would  behold  the  Master  ;  and  rigidly  to  apply 
thisprinciple  of  excision  in  order  that  we  may  advanoe 


SBLF-MUTILATION  FOR  8BLF-PRBSBBVATI0N.     299 

In  the  Divine  life.  It  is  the  only  way  to  eninre  progress. 
There  is  no  such  certain  method  of  securing  an  adequate 
flow  of  sap  up  the  trunk  as  to  cut  off  all  the  suckers.  If 
you  want  to  have  a  current  going  down  the  main  bed  of 
the  stream,  sufficient  to  keep  it  clear,  you  must  dam  up  all 
the  side  channels. 

Then  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  this  commandment, 
stringent  and  necessary  as  it  is,  is  second  best.  The  man 
is  maimed,  although  it  was  for  Christ's  sake  that  he  cut 
off  his  hand,  or  put  out  his  eye.  His  hand  was  given  him 
that  with  it  he  might  serve  God,  and  the  highest  thing 
would  have  been  that  in  hand  and  foot  and  eye  he  should 
have  been  anointed,  like  the  priests  of  old,  for  the  service 
of  his  Master.  But  until  he  is  strong  enough  to  use  the 
faculty  for  God,  the  wisest  thing  is  not  to  use  it  at  alL 
Abandon  the  outworks  to  keep  the  citadel.  And  just  as 
men  pull  down  the  pretty  houses  on  the  outskirts  of  a 
fortified  city  when  &  siege  is  impending,  in  order  that 
they  may  afford  no  cover  to  the  enemy,  so  we  have  to 
sweep  away  a  great  deal  in  our  lives  that  is  innocent  and 
fair,  in  order  that  the  foes  of  our  spirit  may  find  no  lodg- 
ment there.  It  is  second  best,  but  for  all  that  it  is  abso- 
lutely needful.  We  must  lay  aside  every  weight,  as  well 
as  "  the  sin  which  besets  us.'*  We  must  run  lightly  if  we 
would  run  well.  We  must  cast  aside  all  bnrdens,  even 
though  they  be  burdens  of  treasure  and  delights,  if  we 
would  "  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 
"  If  thy  foot  offend  thee"  do  not  hesitate,  do  not  adopt 
half -measures,  do  not  try  moderation,  do  not  seek  to  sanc- 
tify the  use  of  the  peccant  member ;  all  that  may  come  in 
time,  but  for  the  present  there  is  only  one  thing  to  do- 
down  with  it  on  the  block,  and  off  with  it  I  **  Ont  it  off 
and  cast  it  from  thee." 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  a  word  as  to  the  solemn  exhorta- 
tion by  which  this  injunction  is  enforced. 


300      SBLP-MUTILATION  FOR  SBLF-PRESBRVATIOH. 

Christ  rests  His  command  of  self-denial  and  self-mtiki- 
lation  upon  the  highest  ground  of  self-ijaterest.  "It  is 
better  for  thee."  We  are  told  nowadays  that  it  is  a  very 
low  motive  to  appeal  to,  that  Christianity  is  a  religion  of 
selfishness,  because  it  says  to  men,  "Your  life  or  your 
death  depends  upon  your  faith  and  your  conduct."  Well, 
I  think  it  will  be  time  for  us  to  listen  to  fantastic  objec- 
tions of  this  sort  when  the  men  that  urge  them  refuse  to 
turn  down  another  street  if  they  are  warned  that  in  the 
road  they  are  going  they  will  meet  their  death.  As  long 
as  they  admit  that  it  is  a  wise  and  a  kind  thing  to  say  to 
a  man,  "  Do  not  go  that  way  or  your  life  will  be  endan- 
gered," I  think  we  may  listen  to  our  Master  saying  to  us, 
**  Do  not  do  this,  or  thou  shalt  perish."  **  Do  this,  that 
thou  mayst  enter  into  life." 

And  then,  notice,  the  maimed  man  may  enter  into  life, 
and  the  complete  man  may  perish.  The  first  may  be  a 
very  poor  creature,  very  ignorant,  with  a  limited  nature, 
undeveloped  capacities,  intellect  and  the  like  all  but  dor- 
mant in  him,  artistic  sensibilities  quite  undeveloped,  and 
he  may  have  got  hold  of  Jesus  Christ  and  His  love,  and 
be  trying  to  love  and  serve  Him  back  again,  and  so  be 
entering  into  life  even  here,  and  be  sure  of  a  life  more 
perfect  yonder.  And  the  complete  man,  cultured  all 
round,  with  all  his  faculties  polished  and  exercised  to  the 
full,  may  have  one  side  of  his  nature  atrophied,  that 
which  connects  him  with  God  in  Christ.  And  so  he  may 
be  like  some  fair  tree  that  stands  out  there  in  the  open, 
•n  all  sides  extending  its  equal  beauty,  with  its  stem 
symmetrical,  cylindrical,  perfect  in  its  green  cloud  of 
foliage,  yet  there  may  be  a  worm  at  the  root  of  it,  and  it 
may  be  given  up  to  rottenness  and  destruction.  Culti- 
Tated  men  may  perish,  and  uncultured  men  may  have  the 
life.  The  maimed  man  may  touch  Christ  with  his  stump, 
i&d  so  receive  life,  and  the  complete  man  may  lay  hold 


SBLF-MUTILATION  FOB  8BLF-PRBSBRVATI0N.      801 

of  the  world  and  the  flesh  and  the  devil  with  his  handf, 

and  80  share  in  their  destruction. 

Ay  !  and  in  that  case  the  maimed  man  has  the  best  of  it 
It  is  a  very  plain  axiom  of  the  mdest  common-sense,  this 
of  my  text :  "  It  is  better  for  thee  to  enter  into  life  maimed, 
than  to  go  into  hell-fire  with  both  thy  hands."  That  is 
to  say,  better  live  maimed  than  die  whole.  A  man  comes 
into  a  hospital  with  gangrene  in  his  leg  ;  the  doctor  says 
it  must  come  off ;  he  says,  "  It  shall  not,'*  and  he  is  dead 
to-morrow.  Who  is  the  fool — the  man  that  says,  "  Here, 
then,  cut  away ;  better  life  than  limb,**  or  the  man  that 
says,  "  I  will  keep  it  and  I  will  die"? 

"Better  to  enter  into  life  maimed,**  because  you  will 
not  always  be  maimed.  The  life  will  overcome  the 
maiming.  There  is  a  wonderful  restoration  of  capacities 
and  powers  that  have  been  sacrificed  for  Christ's  sake, 
a  restoration  even  here.  As  crustaceans  will  develop  a  claw 
that  they  have  thown  off  in  their  peril  to  save  their  lives, 
BO  we,  if  we  have  for  Christ's  sake  maimed  ourselves,  will 
find  in  a  large  measure  that  the  suppression  will  be  re- 
compensed even  here  on  earth. 

And  hereafter,  as  the  Rabbis  used  to  say,  "  No  man  will 
rise  from  the  grave  a  cripple.*'  All  the  limitations  which 
we  have  imposed  upon  ourselves,  for  Christ's  sake,  will 
be  removed  then.  "Then  shall  the  eyes  of  the  blind  be 
opened,  and  the  ears  of  the  deaf  be  unstopped  ;  then  shall 
the  lame  man  leap  as  a  hart,  and  the  tongue  of  the  dumb 
shall  sing."  "  Verily  I  say  unto  thee,  there  is  no  man 
that  hath  left  any"  of  his  possessions,  affections,  tastes, 
capacities,  "  for  My  sake  but  he  shall  receive  a  hundred- 
fold more  in  this  life,  and  in  the  world  to  come,  life 
everlasting."  No  man  is  a  loser  by  giving  up  anything 
for  Jesus  Christ. 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  complete  man,  complete  In 
•rerything  except  his  spiritual  nature,  is  a  fragment  in  all 


302      SBLF-MUTILATIQN  FOB  SELF-PBBSBBVATIOll. 

his  completenesB ;  and  yonder,  there  will  for  him  be  « 
solemn  process  of  stripping.  **Take  it  from  him,  and 
give  it  to  him  that  hath  ten  talents/*  Ah !  how  mnch  of 
that  for  which  some  of  you  are  flinging  away  Jesus 
Christ  will  fade  from  you  when  you  go  yonder.  "  His 
glory  shall  not  descend  after  Him ;"  "  as  He  came,  so 
shall  He  go."  "  Tongues,  they  shall  cease  ;  knowledge, 
it  shall  vanish  away  ;"  gifts  shall  fail,  capacities  shall 
disappear  when  the  opportunities  for  the  exercise  of 
them  in  a  material  world  are  at  an  end,  and  there  shall 
be  little  left  to  the  man  who  would  carry  hands  and  feet 
and  eyes  all  into  the  Are  and  forgot  the  one  thing  needful, 
but  a  thin  thread,  if  I  may  so  say,  of  personality  quiver- 
ing with  the  sense  of  responsibility,  and  preyed  upon  by 
the  gnawing  worm  of  a  too-late  remorse. 

My  brother  I  The  lips  of  Incarnate  Love  spoke  those 
•olemn  words  of  my  text,  which  it  becomes  not  me  to 
repeat  to  you  as  if  they  were  mine ;  but  I  ask  you  to 
weigh  this.  His  urgent  commandment,  and  to  listen  to  His 
solemn  assurance,  by  which  He  enforces  the  wisdom  of 
the  self-suppression  : — "  It  is  better  for  thee  to  enter  into 
life  maimed,  than  having  two  hands,  to  be  cast  into  hell- 
fire." 

Give  your  hearts  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  set  following  in 
His  footsteps  and  keeping  His  commandments  high  above 
all  other  aims.  You  will  have  to  suppress  much  and  give 
up  much,  but  such  suppression  is  the  shortest  road  to 
becoming  perfect  men,  complete  in  Him,  and  such  sur 
render  is  the  surest  way  to  possess  all  things.  He  that 
loseth  his  life — which  is  more  than  hand  or  ey«-*£or 
€ttiriai*s  sake,  the  same  shall  find  it 


IS  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  LORD  STRAITENED? 


BERMON  XXV. 


18  THB  SPIRIT  OF  TEB  LORD  6TBATTENBDI 

**0  Ihon  tlut  art  DAmed  the  honae  of  Jaoob,  la  the  Spirit  of  tlie  Lord  straitened  T 
An  tbflM  HU  doingi  T "— Micah  U.  7. 

The  greater  part  of  so-called  Christendom  is  to-day*  cele- 
brating the  gift  of  a  Divine  Spirit  to  the  Church  ;  but  it 
may  well  be  asked  whether  the  religions  condition  of 
•o-called  Christendom  is  not  a  sad  satire  upon  Pentecost. 
There  seems  a  woful  contrast,  very  perplexing  to  faith, 
between  the  bright  promise  at  the  beginning  and  the 
history  of  the  development  in  the  future.  How  few  of 
those  who  share  in  to-day's  services  have  any  personal 
experience  of  snch  a  gift  1  How  many  seem  to  think  that 
that  old  story  is  only  the  record  of  a  past  event,  a  transient 
miracle  which  has  no  kind  of  relation  to  the  experience  of 
the  Christians  of  this  day  I  There  were  a  handful  of  be- 
lievers in  one  of  the  towns  of  Asia  Minor,  to  whom  an 
Apostle  came,  and  was  so  startled  at  their  condition  that 
he  put  to  them  in  wonder  the  question  that  might  well 
be  put  to  multitudes  of  so-called  Christians  amongst  us  : 
*•  Did  you  receive  the  Holy  Ghost  when  you  believed  ?" 
And  their  answer  is  only  too  true  a  transcript  of  the 
•xperienoe  ol  large  masses  of  people  who  call  themselvei 

*  WIUtaondAjf . 

s 


306       IS  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THB  LORD  STRAITBNBD  f 

Christians !  "  We  have  not  80  much  as  heard  whether 
there  be  any  Holy  Ghost." 

I  desire,  then,  dear  brethren,  to  avail  myself  of  this 
day's  associations  in  order  to  press  upon  your  consciences 
and  upon  my  own  some  considerations  naturally  suggested 
by  them,  and  which  find  voice  in  these  two  indignant  ques- 
tions of  the  old  prophet : — "  Is  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
straitened  ?*'  Are  these — ^the  phenomena  of  existing 
popular  Christianity — "  are  these  His  doings  I"  And  if 
we  are  brought  sharp  up  against  the  consciousness  of  a 
dreadful  contrast,  it  may  do  us  good  to  ask  what  is  the 
explanation  of  so  cloudy  a  day  following  a  morning  so 
bright. 

I. — First,  then,  I  have  to  ask  yon  to  think  with  me  of 
the  promise  of  the  Pentecost. 

What  did  it  declare  and  hold  forth  for  the  faith  of  the 
Church  ?  I  need  not  dwell  at  any  length  upon  this  point. 
The  facts  are  familiar  to  you,  and  the  inferences  drawn 
from  them  are  commonplace  and  known  to  us  all.  But 
let  me  just  enumerate  them  as  briefly  as  may  be. 

"  Suddenly  there  came  a  sound,  as  of  the  rushing  of  a 
mighty  wind,  and  it  filled  all  the  house  where  they  were 
sitting,  and  there  appeared  cloven  tongues  as  of  fire,  and 
sat  upon  each  of  them ;  and  they  were  all  filled  with  the 
Holy  Ghost." 

What  lay  in  that?  First,  the  promise  of  a  Divine 
Spirit  by  symbols  which  express  some,  at  all  events,  of 
the  characteristics  and  wonderfulness  of  His  work.  The 
"  rushing  of  a  mighty  wind "  spoke  of  a  power  which 
varies  in  its  manifestations  from  the  gentlest  breath  that 
scarce  moves  the  leaves  on  the  summer  trees  to  the  wild- 
est blast  that  casts  down  all  which  stands  in  its  way. 

The  natural  symbolism  of  the  wind,  to  popular  ap- 
prehension, the  least  material  of  all  material  forces,  and  of 
which  the  connection  with  the  immaterial  part  of  a  man's 


U  THE  SPIRIT  OP  THE   LORD  STRAITENED  f      307 

personality  has  been  expressed  In  all  languages,  points  to  a 
Divine,  to  an  immaterial,  to  a  mighty,  to  a  life-giving 
power  which  is  free  to  blow  whither  it  listeth,  and  of 
which  men  can  mark  the  effects,  though  they  are  all 
ignorant  of  the  force  itself. 

The  twin  symbol  of  the  fiery  tongues  which  parted  and 
sat  upon  each  of  them  speaks  in  like  manner  of  the 
Divine  influence,  not  as  destructive,  but  full  of  quick,  re- 
joicing energy  and  life,  the  power  to  transform  and  to 
purify.  Whithersoever  the  fire  comes,  it  changes  all  things 
Into  its  own  substance.  Whithersoever  the  fire  comes, 
there  the  ruddy  spires  shoot  upwards  towards  the  heavens. 
Whithersoever  the  fire  comes,  there  all  bonds  and  fetters 
are  melted  and  consumed.  And  so  this  fire  transforms, 
purifies,  ennobles,  quickens,  sets  free ;  and  where  the 
fiery  spirit  is,  there  is  energy,  swift  life,  rejoicing  activity, 
transforming  and  transmuting  power  which  changes  the 
recipient  of  the  flame  into  flame  himself. 

Then,  still  further,  in  the  fact  of  Pentecost  there  is  the 
promise  of  a  Divine  Spirit  which  is  to  influence  all  the 
moral  side  of  humanity.  This  is  the  great  and  glorious 
distinction  between  the  Christian  doctrine  of  inspiration 
and  all  others  which  have,  in  heathen  lands,  partially 
reached  similar  conceptions — that  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ  has  laid  emphasis  upon  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  has 
declared  that  holiness  of  heart  is  the  touchstone  and 
test  of  all  claims  of  Divine  inspiration.  Gifts  are  much, 
graces  are  more.  An  inspiration  which  makes  wise  is  to  be 
coveted,  an  inspiration  which  makes  holy  is  transcendently 
better.  There  we  find  the  safeguard  against  all  the  fanati- 
cisms which  have  sometimes  invaded  the  Christian  Church, 
namely,  in  the  thought  that  the  Spirit  which  dwells  in 
men,  and  makes  them  free  from  the  obligations  of  out- 
ward law  and  cold  morality,  is  a  Spirit  that  works  m 
deeper  holiness  than  law  dreamed,  and  a  more  spon* 

X  2 


308      IS  THB  SPIICIT  OF  THE  LORD  STRAITBNBD  f 

taneoQS  and  glad  confonnity  to  all  things  that  are  fair  and 
good,  than  any  legislation  and  ontward  commandment 
conld  ever  enforce.  The  Spirit  that  came  at  Pentecost  is 
not  merely  a  Spirit  of  rnshing  might  and  of  swift-flaming 
energy,  bnt  it  is  a  Spirit  of  holiness,  whose  most  blessed 
and  intimate  work  is  the  production  in  ns  of  all  the  homely 
virtues  and  sweet,  unpretending  goodnesses  which  can 
adorn  and  gladden  humanity. 

Still  further,  the  Pentecost  carried  in  it  the  promise 
and  prophecy  of  a  Spirit  granted  to  all  the  Church. 
"They  were  all  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost."  .This  ii 
Ihe  true  democracy  of  Christianity,  that  its  very  basis  is 
laid  in  the  thought  that  every  member  of  the  body  is 
equally  close  to  the  Head,  and  equally  recipient  of  the 
life.  There  are  none  now  who  have  a  Spirit  which  others 
do  not  possess.  The  ancient  aspiration  of  the  Jewish  law- 
giver :  "  Would  God  that  all  the  Lord's  people  were  pro- 
phets, and  that  the  Lord  would  put  His  Spirit  upon  them," 
is  fulfilled  in  the  experience  of  Pentecost ;  and  the  hand- 
maiden and  the  children,  as  well  as  the  old  men  and  the 
servants,  receive  of  that  universal  gift.  Therefore  sacer- 
dotal claims,  special  functions,  privileged  classes,  are  alien 
to  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  and  blasphemies  against 
the  inspiring  God.  If  "one  is  your  master,  all  ye  are 
brethren."  And  if  we  have  all  been  made  to  drink  into 
one  Spirit,  then  no  longer  hath  any  man  dominion  over 
our  faith  nor  power  to  intervene  and  to  intercede  with 
God  for  us. 

And  still  further,  the  promise  of  the  early  history  was 
that  of  a  spirit  which  should  fill  the  whole  nature  of  the 
men  to  whom  He  was  granted  ;  filling,  in  the  measure,  of 
course,  of  their  receptivity,  filling  them  as  the  great  sea 
does  all  the  creeks  and  indentations  along  the  shore.  The 
deeper  the  creek,  the  deeper  the  water  in  it.  The  further 
inland  it  nins,  the  further  will  the  refreshing  tide  pene- 


IB  THB  SPIRIT  OF  THB  LORD  8TRAITBNED  ?     309 

trate  the  bosom  of  the  continent.  And  bo  each  man, 
according  to  his  character,  stature,  circumstances,  and  all 
the  varying  conditions  which  determine  his  power  of  re- 
ceptivity, will  receive  a  varying  measure  of  that  gift.  Yet 
it  if  meant  that  all  shall  be  full.  The  little  vessel,  the 
tiny  cup,  as  well  as  the  great  cistern  and  the  enormous 
vat,  each  contains  according  to  its  capacity.  And  if  all 
are  filled,  then  this  quick  Spirit  must  have  the  power  to 
influence  all  the  provinces  of  human  nature,  must  touch 
the  moral,  must  touch  the  spiritual.  The  temporary  mani- 
festations and  extraordinary  signs  of  His  power  may  well 
drop  away  as  the  flower  drops  when  the  fruit  has  set. 
The  operations  of  the  Divine  Spirit  are  to  be  felt  thrilling 
through  all  the  nature,  and  every  part  of  the  man's  being 
is  to  be  recipient  of  the  power.  Just  as  when  you  take  a 
candle  and  plunge  it  into  a  jar  of  oxygen  it  blazes  up,  so 
my  poor  human  nature  immersed  in  that  Divine  Spirit, 
baptised  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  shall  flame  in  all  its  parts  into 
unsuspected  and  hitherto  inexperienced  brightness.  Such 
are  the  elements  of  the  promise  of  PentecoBt. 

11.— And  now,  in  the  next  place,  look  at  the  apparent 
failure  of  the  promise. 

"Is  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  straitened?"  Look  at 
Christendom.  Look  at  all  the  churches.  Look  at  your- 
selves. Will  anyone  say  that  the  religious  condition  of 
any  body  of  professed  believers  at  this  moment  corre- 
sponds to  Pentecost  ?  Is  not  the  gap  so  wide  that  to  fill  it  up 
seems  almost  impossible  ?  Is  not  the  stained  and  imper- 
fect fulfilment  a  miserable  satire  upon  the  promise  ?  "  If 
the  Lord  be  with  ns,"  said  one  of  the  heroes  of  ancient 
Israel,  **  wherefore  is  all  this  come  upon  us  ?"  And  I  am 
sure  that  we  may  say  the  same.  If  the  Lord  be  with  us, 
what  is  the  meaning  of  the  state  of  things  which  we  see 
around  us,  and  mutt  recognise  in  ourselves?  Do  any 
existing  churches  present  the  final  perfect  form  of  Chrig- 


310      IB  THB  SPIRIT  OF  THB  LORD  STRAITENED  f 

tianity  as  embodied  in  a  society  ?  Would  not  the  best 
thing  that  could  happen,  and  the  thing  that  will  have  to 
happen  some  day,  be  the  disintegration  of  the  existing 
organisations  in  order  to  build  up  a  more  perfect  habita- 
tion of  God  through  the  Spirit  ?  I  do  not  want  to  ex« 
aggerate.  God  knows  there  is  no  need  for  exaggerating. 
The  plain,  unvarnished  story,  without  any  pessimistic 
picking  out  of  the  black  bits  and  forgetting  all  the  light 
ones,  is  bad  enough. 

Take  three  points  on  which  I  do  not  dwell  and  apply 
them  to  yourselves,  dear  brethren,  and  estimate  by  them 
the  condition  of  things  around  us.  First,  say  whether 
the  ordinary  tenor  of  our  own  religious  life  looks  as  if  we 
had  that  Divine  Spirit  in  us  which  transforms  everything 
into  its  own  beauty,  and  makes  men,  through  all  the 
regions  of  their  nature,  holy  and  pure.  Then  ask  your- 
selves the  question  whether  the  standard  of  devotion  and 
consecration  in  any  chorch  witnesses  of  the  presence  of  a 
Divine  Spirit.  A  little  handful  of  people,  the  best  of  them 
very  partially  touched  with  the  life  of  God,  and  very  im- 
perfectly consecrated  to  His  service,  surrounded  by  a 
great  mass  about  whom  we  can  scarcely,  in  the  judgment 
of  charity,  say  even  so  much, — that  is  the  description  of 
most  of  our  congregations.  "Are  these  His  doings?** 
Surely  somebody  else's  than  His. 

Take  another  question.  Do  the  relations  of  modem 
Christians  and  their  churches  to  one  another  attest  the 
presence  of  a  unifying  Spirit  ?  *'  We  have  all  been  made 
to  drink  into  one  Spirit,'*  said  Paul.  Alas  !  Alas,  does  it 
seem  as  if  we  had  ?  Look  round  professing  Christendom, 
look  at  the  rivalries  and  the  jealousies  between  two  chapels 
in  adjoining  streets.  Look  at  the  gulfs  between  Christian 
men  who  differ  only  on  some  comparative  trifle  of  or- 
ganisation and  polity,  and  say  if  such  things  correspond 
to  the  Pentecostal  promise  of  one  Spirit  which  is  to  make 


IB  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  LORD  STRAITENED  ?     311 

all  the  members  into  one  body  ?    "  Is  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  straitened  ?    Are  these  His  doings  ?" 

Take  another  branch  of  evidence.     Look  at  the  com- 
parative impotence  of  the  Church  in  its  conflict  with  the 
growing  worldliness  of  the  world.     I  do  not  forget  how 
much  is  being  done  all  about  us  to-day,  and  how  still 
Christ's  Gospel  is  winning  triumphs,  but  I  do  not  suppose 
that  any  man  can  look  thoughtfully  and  dispassionately 
on  the  condition,  say,  for  instance,  of  Manchester,  or  of 
any  of  our  great  towns,  and  mark  how  the  populace  knows 
nothing  and  cares  nothing  about  us  and  our  Christianity, 
and  never  comes  into  our  places  of  worship,  and  has  no 
share  in  our  hopes  any  more  than  if  they  lived  in  Central 
Africa,  and  that  after  eighteen  hundred  years  of  nominal 
Christianity,  without  feeling  that  some  malign  influence 
has  arrested  the  leaping  growth  of  the  early  Church,  and 
that  somehow  or  other  that  lava  stream,  if  I  might  so  call 
it,  which  poured  hot  from  the  heart  of  God  in  the  old  day 
has  had  its  flow  checked,  and  over  its  burning  bed  there 
has  spread  a  black  and  wrinkled  crust,  whatsoever  linger- 
ing heat  there  may  still  be  at  the  centre.     "  If  God  be 
with  us,  why  has  all  this  come  upon  us  ?" 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  let  us  think  for  a  moment  of  the 
solution  of  the  contradiction. 

The  indignant  questions  of  my  text  may  be  taken,  with 
a  little  possibly  permissible  violence,  as  expressing  and 
dismissing  some  untrue  explanations.  One  explanation 
that  sometimes  is  urged  is,  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  strait- 
ened. That  explanation  takes  two  forms.  Sometimes  you 
hear  people  saying,  "  Christianity  is  effete.  We  have  to 
go  now  to  fresh  fountains  of  inspiration,  and  turn  away 
from  these  broken  cisterns  that  can  hold  no  water."  I 
am  not  going  to  argue  that  question.  I  do  not  think  for 
my  part  that  Christianity  will  be  effete  until  the  world 
has  got  up  to  it  and  beyond  it  in  its  practice,  and  it  will 


312        IS  THE  spmrr  op  the  lord  straitened? 

be  a  good  while  before  that  happens,  Christianity  will 
not  be  worn  out  until  men  have  copied  and  reduced  to 
practice  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  they  have  not 
quite  got  that  length  yet.  No  shadow  of  a  fear  that  the 
Grospel  has  lost  its  power,  or  that  God's  Spirit  has  become 
weak,  should  be  permitted  to  creep  over  our  hearts.  The 
promise  is,  "  I  will  send  another  Comforter,  and  He  shall 
abide  with  you  f(yr  ever."  It  is  a  permanent  gift  that  was 
given  to  the  Church  on  that  day.  We  have  to  distinguish 
in  the  story  between  the  symbols,  the  gift,  and  the  con- 
sequences of  the  gift.  The  first  and  the  last  are  transient, 
the  second  is  permanent.  The  symbols  were  transient. 
The  people  that  gathered  together  saw  no  tongues  of  fire. 
The  consequences  were  transient.  The  tongues  and  the 
miraculous  utterances  were  but  for  a  time.  The  results 
vary  according  to  the  circumstances ;  but  the  central 
thing,  the  gift  itself,  is  an  irrevocable  gift,  and  once 
bestowed  is  ever  with  the  Church  to  all  generations. 

Another  form  of  the  explanation  is  the  theory  that  God 
in  His  sovereignty  is  pleased  to  withhold  his  Spirit  for 
reasons  which  we  cannot  trace.  But  it  is  not  true  that 
the  gift  once  given  varies  in  the  degree  in  which  it  is 
continued.  There  is  always  the  same  flow  from  God, 
There  are  ebbs  and  flows  in  the  spiritual  power  of  the 
Church.  Yes!  And  the  tide  runs  out  of  your  har- 
bours. Is  there  any  less  water  in  the  sea  because  it 
does  ?  So  the  gift  may  ebb  away  from  a  man,  from  a  com- 
munity, from  an  epoch,  not  because  God's  manifestation 
and  bestowment  fluctuates,  but  because  our  receptivity 
changes.  So  we  dismiss,  and  are  bound  to  dismiss,  if 
we  are  Christians,  the  unbelieving  explanation,  "The 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  straitened,*'  and  not  to  sit  with  our 
hands  folded,  as  if  an  inscrutable  sovereignty,  with  which 
we  have  nothing  to  do,  sometimes  sent  more  and  some- 
times less  of   IGs  spiritual  gifts  upon  a  waiting  Church. 


18  THB  SPIRIT  OF  THB  LOBD  BTBAITBNBD  ?       318 

It  is  not  80.  *'  With  Him  is  no  yariableness.'*  The  gifts 
of  God  are  withont  repentance  ;  and  the  Spirit  that  was 
given  once,  according  to  the  Master's  own  word  already 
quoted,  is  given  that  He  may  abide  with  as  for  ever. 

Therefore  we  have  to  come  back  to  this,  which  is  the 
point  to  which  I  seek  to  bring  yon  and  myself,  in  lowly 
penitence  and  contrite  acknowledgment — that  it  is  all  our 
own  fanlt  and  the  resnlt  of  evil  in  ourselves  that  may  be 
remedied,  thuu  we  have  so  little  of  that  Divine  gift ;  and 
that  if  the  churches  of  this  country  and  of  this  day  seem 
to  be  cursed  and  blasted  in  so  much  of  their  fruitlesi 
operations  and  formal  worship,  it  is  the  fault  of  the 
churches,  and  not  of  the  Lord  of  the  churches.  The 
stream  that  poured  forth  from  the  throne  of  God  has  not 
lost  itself  in  the  sands,  nor  is  it  shrunken  in  its  volume. 
The  fire  that  was  kindled  on  Pentecost  has  not  died  down 
into  grey  ashes.  The  rushing  of  the  mighty  wind  that 
woke  on  that  morning  has  not  calmed  and  stilled  itself 
into  the  stagnancy  and  suffocating  breathlessness  of  mid- 
day heat.  The  same  fulness  of  the  Spirit  which  filled  the 
believers  on  that  day  is  available  for  us  all.  If,  like  that 
waiting  Church  of  old,  we  abide  in  prayer  and  supplication, 
the  giit  will  be  given  to  us  too,  and  we  may  repeat  and 
reproduce,  if  not  the  miracles  which  we  do  not  need,  yet 
the  necessary  inspiration  of  the  highest  and  the  noblest 
dayii  and  saints  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  "  If  ye, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  to  your  children, 
huw  much  more  will  your  Heavenly  Father  give  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  Him  ?'*  "  Ask  and  ye  shall 
receive,**  and  be  filled  with  the  Holy  Qhost  and  with 
poww. 


HEROD— A  STARTLED  CONSCIENCE. 


BERMON  XXVL 


BBROD^A  STARTLED  OONS0IE50B. 

*  Bot  when  Herod  heard  thereof,  he  said.  It  if  John  whom  I  beheaded  {  ho  to  rtoea 
fttMn  the  dead."— Mark  tL.  It. 

The  character  of  this  Herod,  Bumamed  Antipas,  is  a 
iufBcieutly  common  and  a  sufficiently  despicable  one.  He 
was  the  very  type  of  an  Egyptian  despot,  exactly  like 
Bome  of  those  half-independent  rajahs  whose  dominions 
march  with  ours  in  India ;  capricious,  crafty,  as  the 
epithet  which  Christ  applied  to  him,  "  That  fox  I"  shows  ; 
oruel,  as  the  story  of  the  murder  of  John  the  Baptist 
proves  ;  sensuous  and  lustful ;  and  withal  weak  of  fibre 
and  infirm  of  purpose.  He,  Herodias,  and  John  the  Baptist 
make  a  triad  singularly  like  the  other  triad  in  the  Old 
Testament  of  Ahab,  Jezebel,  and  Elijah.  In  both  cases  we 
have  the  weak  ruler,  the  beautiful  she-devil  at  his  side, 
inspiring  him  for  all  evil,  and  the  stem  prophet,  the  re- 
buker  and  the  incarnate  conscience  for  them  both. 

The  words  that  I  have  read  are  the  terrified  exclamation 
of  this  weak  and  wicked  man  when  he  was  brought  in 
contact  with  the  light  and  beauty  of  Jesus  Christ.  And  if 
we  think  Who  it  was  that  frightened  him,  and  ponder  th< 
words  in  which  his  fear  expressed  itself,  w«  get,  ••  il 
teems  to  me,  some  lessons  worth  the  drawing. 


318  HEROD— A  STARTLED  CONSCIENOB. 

I. — You  have  here  the  voice  of  a  startled  conscience. 

Herod  killed  John  without  much  sense  of  doing  wrong. 
He  was  sorry,  no  doubt,  for  he  had  alcind  of  respect  for 
the  man,  and  he  was  reluctant  to  put  him  to  death.  But 
though  there  was  reluctance,  there  was  no  hesitation. 
His  fantastic  sense  of  honour  came  in  the  way.  In  the 
one  scale  there  was  the  life  of  a  poor  enthusiast,  who  had 
amused  him  for  a  while,  but  of  whom  he  had  got  tired. 
In  the  other  scale  there  were  his  word,  the  pleasure  of 
Herodias,  and  the  applause  of  the  half-drunken  boon 
companions  that  were  sitting  with  them  at  the  table.  So, 
of  course,  the  prophet  was  slain,  and  the  pale  head 
brought  in  to  that  wild  re-vel ;  and  except  for  the  malig- 
nant gloating  of  the  woman  over  her  gratified  revenge, 
the  event,  no  doubt,  very  quickly  passed  from  the  memo- 
ries of  all  concerned. 

But  then  there  came  stealing  into  the  silken  seclusion 
of  the  palace,  where  he  was  wallowing  in  his  sensuality 
like  a  hog  in  the  sty,  the  tidings  of  another  peasant 
Teacher  that  had  risen  up  among  the  people.  Christ's 
name  had  been  ringing  through  the  land,  and  been 
sounded  with  blessings  in  poor  men*s  huts  long  before  it 
got  within  the  gates  of  Herod's  palace.  That  is  the  place 
where  religious  earnestness  makes  its  mark  last  of  all 
But  it  finally  ran  hither  also  ;  and  light  gossip  went  round 
concerning  this  new  sensation.  "  Who  is  He  ?  Who  is 
He  ?"  Each  man  had  his  own  theory  about  Him,  but  a 
sudden  memory  started  up  in  the  frivolous  despot's  soul, 
and  it  was  with  a  trembling  heart  that  he  said  to  himself, 
'*  I  know  !  I  know !  It  is  John  whom  I  beheaded  I  He 
is  risen  from  the  dead  I"  His  conscience  and  his  memory 
and  his  fears  all  awoke. 

Now  my  friends,  I  pray  you  to  lay  that  simple  lesson  to 
heart.  We  all  of  us  do  evil  things  with  regard  to  which 
it  is  not  so  hard  for  us  to  bribe  or  to  sileo  ce  our  memories 


HEROD— A  STARTLBD  OONSOIBNOB.  319 

The  hurry  and  bnatle  of  daily  life, 
the  very  weakness  of  our  characters,  the  rush  of  sensu- 
ous delights,  may  make  us  blind  and  deaf  to  the  voice  of 
conscience  ;  and  we  think  that  all  chance  of  the  evil  deed 
r'sing  again  to  harm  us  is  past.  But  some  trifle  touches 
the  hidden  spring  by  mere  accident ;  as  in  the  old  story  of 
the  man  groping  along  a  wall,  till  his  finger  happens  to 
fall  upon  one  inch  of  it,  and  immediately  the  concealed 
door  flies  open  and  there  is  the  skeleton.  So  with  us, 
some  merely  fortuitous  association  may  freshen  faded 
memories  and  wake  a  dormant  conscience.  An  apparently 
trivial  circumstance,  like  some  hooked  pole  pushed  at 
random  into  the  sea,  may  bring  up  by  the  locks  aome  pale 
and  drowned  memory  long  plunged  in  an  ocean  of  obli- 
vion. Here,  in  Herod*s  case,  a  report  reaches  him  of  a 
new  Rabbi  who  bears  but  a  very  faint  resemblance  to 
John,  and  that  is  enough  to  bring  his  crime  back  in  its 
naked  atrocity. 

My  friends !  We  have  all  got  these  hybernating  ser- 
pents in  our  consciences,  and  nobody  knows  when  the 
needful  warmth  may  come  that  will  wake  them  and 
make  them  lift  their  forked  heads  to  sting.  The  whole 
landscape  of  my  past  life  lies  there  behind  the  mists  of 
apparent  forgetfulness,  and  any  light  air  of  suggestion  may 
sweep  away  the  clouds,  and  show  it  all.  What  have  you 
laid  up  in  these  memories  of  yours,  to  start  into  life  some 
day  :  "  at  the  last  biting  like  a  serpent  and  stinging  like 
an  adder"  ?  **  It  is  John  I     It  is  John  whom  I  beheaded  I" 

Take  this  other  thought,  how,  as  this  story  shows  us, 
when  once  at  the  bidding  of  memory  conscience  begins 
to  work,  all  illusions  as  to  the  nature  of  my  action,  and  as 
to  my  share  in  it,  are  swept  away. 

When  the  evil  deed  was  done,  Herod  scarcely  felt  as 
if  he  did  it.  There  was  his  plighted  oath,  there  was 
Herodias's  pressure,  there  was  the  excitement  of   tk* 


820  HEROD— A   STARTLED  C02s'SGlENCB. 

moment  He  suemed  forced  to  do  it,  and  scarcely  respon- 
sible for  doing  it.  And  no  doubt,  if  he  ever  thought 
about  it  after,  he  shuffled  off  a  large  percentage  of  the  re- 
sponsibility of  the  guilt  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  others. 
Bat  when, 

*  IB  the  silent  sessloni  of  things  past,** 

the  image  and  remembrance  of  the  deed  come  up  to  him, 
all  the  helpers  and  tempters  have  disappeared,  and  **  It  is 
John  whom  /  beheaded  1"  (There  is  an  empbapis  In  the 
Greek  upon  the  "  I").  "  Yes,  it  was  /.*'  "  Herodias  tempted 
me;  Herodias's  daughter  titillated  my  Inst :  I  fancied  that 
my  oath  bound  me  ;  I  could  not  help  doing  what  would 
please  those  who  sat  at  the  table.  I  sai<i  all  that  before  I 
did  it.  But  now,  when  it  is  done,  they  have  all  disap- 
peared, every  one  of  them  to  his  quarter  ;  and  I  and  the 
ugly  thing  are  left  together  alone.  It  was  I  that  did  it, 
and  nobody  besides." 

The  blackness  of  the  crime,  too,  presents  itself  to  the 
startled  conscience  as  it  did  not  in  the  doing.  There  are 
many  euphemisms  and  soft  words  in  which,  as  in  cotton- 
wool, we  wrap  our  evil  deeds  and  so  deceive  ourselves  as 
to  their  hardness  and  their  edge  ;  but  when  conscience 
gets  hold  of  them,  and  they  pass  out  of  the  realm  of  fact 
into  the  mystical  region  of  remembrance;'  all  the  wrap- 
pages, and  all  the  apologies,  and  all  the  soft  phrases  drop 
away  ;  and  the  ugliest,  briefest,  plainest  word  is  the  one 
by  w^hich  my  conscience  describes  my  own  evil.  "/  be- 
headed him  1  /,  and  none_else,  was  the  murderer.*'  Oh  I 
dear  brethren,  do  you  see  to  it  that  what  you  store  up  in 
these  caves  and  treasure-cellars  of  memory  which  we  all 
carry  with  us,  are  deeds  that  will  bear  being  brought  out 
again  and  looked  at  in  the  pure  white  light  of  conscience, 
and  which  you  will  neither  be  ashamed  nor  afraid  to  lay 
your  hand  upon  and  say  :  "  It  is  mine  ;  /  planted  and 
•owed  and  worked  it,  and  I  am  ready  to  reap  the  froif 


HEROD— A   STARTLED  0ON8CIEN0E.  321 

"  If  thon  be  wise  thou  shalt  be  wise  for  thyself,  if  thou 
soomeet  thon  alone  shalt  bear  it.  Take  care  of  the  store- 
house!* of  memory  and  of  conscience,  and  mind  what  kind 
of  things  you  lay  np  there. 

II. — Now,  once  more,  I  take  these  words  as  setting 
before  ns  an  example  of  a  conscience  awakened  to  the 
unseen  world. 

Many  commentators  tell  ns  that  this  Herod  was  a 
Sadducee ;  that  is  to  say  theologically,  and  theoretically 
he  had  given  np  the  belief  in  a  future  state  and  in  spiri- 
tual existence.  I  do  not  know  that  that  can  be  sustained, 
but  much  more  probably  he  was  only  a  Sadducee  in  the 
way  in  which  a  great  many  of  us  are  Sadducees  :  he  nerer 
thought  about  these  things,  he  did  not  tl^ink  about  them 
enough  to  know  whether  he  believed  in  tuem  or  not.  He 
was  a  practical,  if  not  a  theoretical  Sadducee  ;  that  is  to  say, 
this  present  was  his  world,  and  as  for  the  future,  it  did 
not  come  much  into  his  mind.  But,  now  notice  when 
conscience  begins  to  stir  it  at  onoe  sends  his  thoughts  into 
that  unseen  world  beyond. 

There  is  a  very  close  connection,  as  all  history  proves, 
between  theoretical  disbelief  in  a  future  life  and  in  spiri- 
tual existence,  and  superstition.  So  strong  is  the  bond 
which  unites  men  with  the  unseen  world,  that  if  they  do 
not  link  themselves  with  that  world  in  the  legitimate  and 
true  fashion,  it  is  almost  certain  to  avenge  itself  upon 
them  by  leading  them  to  all  manner  of  low  and  abject 
superstitions.  Spiritualism  is  the  disease  of  a  generation 
that  disbelieves  in  another  life.  The  French  Revolution, 
with  its  infidelities, was  also  the  age  of  quacks  and  impostors 
such  as  Cagliostro  and  the  like.  The  time  when  Christ 
lived  presented  precisely  the  same  phenomena.  If  Herod 
was  a  Sadducee,  Herod's  Sadduceeism,  like  frost  upon 
the  window-panes,  was  such  a  thin  layer  shutting  out 
the  invisible  world,  that  the  least  warmth  of  conscience 

T 


322  HEROD— A  STARTLED  CONSCIBNOB. 

melted  it,  and  the  clear  daylight  glared  in  upon  him. 
And  I  am  afraid  that  there  are  a  great  many  of  ns  who 
may  be  half -inclined  to  reject  the  belief  in  another  life, 
who  would  find  precisely  the  same  thing  happening  to 

MS. 

But  be  that  as  it  may,  it  seems  to  me  that  whenever  a 
man  comes  to  think  very  seriously  about  his  conduct  as 
being  wrong  in  the  sight  of  God,  there  at  once  starts  up 
before  him  the  thought  of  a  future  life  and  a  judgment- 
bar.  And  I  want  to  know  why  and  how  it  is  that  the 
vigorous  operation  of  conscience  is  always  Accompanied 
with  a  "  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  ard  fiery  indig- 
nation." I  think  it  is  worth  your  while  to  reflect  upon 
the  fact,  and  to  try  and  ascertain  for  yourselves  the  reason 
of  it,  that  whenever  a  man's  conscience  begins  to  tell  him 
of  his  wrong,  its  message  is  not  only  of  transgressions  but 
of  judgment,  and  that  beyond  the  grave. 

And,  moreover,  notice  here  how  the  startled  conscience, 
when  it  becomes  aware  of  an  unseen  world  beyond  the 
grave,  cannot  but  think  that  out  of  that  world  there 
shall  come  evil  for  it.  These  words  of  my  text  are  ob- 
viously the  words  of  a  frightened  man.  It  was  terroi 
that  made  Herod  say  :  **  It  is  John  whom  I  beheaded. 
He  has  arisen  fi*om  the  dead  I'*  Who  was  it  that  fright 
ened  Herod  ?  It  was  He  Who  came  from  the  bosom 
of  the  Father,  with  His  hands  full  of  blessings  and  His 
heart  full  of  love :  Who  came  to  quiet  all  fears,  and  to 
cleanse  all  consciences,  and  to  satisfy  all  men's  souls 
with  His  own  sweet  love  and  His  perfect  righteousness. 
And  it  was  this  genial  and  gracious  and  Divine  form, 
with  all  its  actualities  of  gentleness  and  its  possibilities 
of  grace,  which  the  evil  conscience  of  the  terrified  tetrarch 
converted  into  a  messenger  of  judgment  come  from  the 
tomb  to  rebuke  and  to  smite  him  for  his  evils. 

That  is  to  say,  always  men  may  make  that  future  life 


HEROD — A  STARTLED   CONSCIBNOB.  323 

and  their  relation  to  it  what  they  will.  Either  the 
Heavens  may  pour  down  their  dewy  influences  of  bene- 
diction and  frnitfulness  upon  them,  or  they  may  pour 
down  fire  and  brimstone  upon  their  spirits.  Men  have 
the  choice  which  it  shall  be.  The  evil  conscience  drapes 
the  future  in  darkness,  and  is  right  in  doing  it.  The  evil 
conscience  forebodes  chastisement,  judgment,  condemna- 
tion coming  to  it  from  out  of  the  unseen  world,  and  it  ir 
right  in  doing  it,  with  limitations.  You  can  make  Chrisi 
Himself  the  Messenger  of  condemnation  and  of  death  to 
you.  My  dear  friends,  do  you  choose  whether,  fronting 
eternity  with  an  unforgiven  burden  of  Bin  upon  your 
shoulders  and  a  conscience  unsprinkled  by  the  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ,  you  make  of  it  one  great  fear  ;  or  whether 
yoQ  make  it  what  it  really  is,  a  lustrous  hope,  a  perfect 
joy.  Is  the  Messenger  that  comes  out  of  the  unseen  to 
come  to  you  as  a  Judge  of  your  buried  evils  started  into 
life,  or  is  He  to  come  to  you  as  the  Christ  that  bears  in 
His  hand  the  price  of  your  redemption,  and  with  His  blood 
sprinkles  your  conscience  from  dead  works  and  from  all 
its  terrors  ? 

III. — And  now,  lastly,  I  see  in  this  saying  an  illustra- 
tion of  a  conscience  which,  partially  stirred,  soon  went 
finally  to  sleep  again. 

Strangely  enough,  if  we  pursue  the  story,  this  very 
terror  and  clear-eyed  perception  of  the  nature  of  his  action 
led  the  frivolous  king  to  nothing  more  than  a  curious 
wish  to  see  this  new  Teacher.  It  was  not  gratified  ;  and 
thus  by  degrees  he  got  to  hate  Him  and  to  want  to  kill 
Him.  And  then,  last  of  all,  on  the  eve  of  the  Crucifixion 
Jesus  was  brought  into  his  presence,  and  Herod  was  glad 
that  his  curiosity  was  satisfied  at  last.  His  conscience  lay 
perfectly  still.  There  was  no  trace  of  the  old  convictions 
or  «£  the  old  tremor.  He  questioned  Jesus  many  things, 
Mid  Christ  answered  him  nothing,  because  He  knew  it 

Y  2 


324  HEROD— A  STARTLED  CONSCIENCE. 

was  of  no  use  to  speak  to  him.  So  Herod  and  his  men  of 
war  mocked  Him  and  set  Him  at  nought ;  and  sent  Him 
back  to  Pilate  ;  and  he  let  his  last  chance  of  salvation  go, 
and  never  knew  what  he  had  done. 

Well,  there  is  a  lesson  for  us  all.  Do  not  tamper 
with  partially  awakened  consciences  ;  do  not  rest  satis- 
fied till  they  are  qnieted  in  the  legitimate  way.  There 
was  a  man  who  trembled  when  he  heard  Paul  re- 
monstrating with  him  "about  righteousness  and  tem- 
perance**— both  of  which  the  unjust  judge  had  set  at 
nought— "and  judgment  to  come.'*  And  he  sent  for 
him  often  and  communed  with  him  gladly,  but  we 
never  hear  that  Felix  trembled  any  more.  It  is  possible 
for  you  BO  to  lull  yourselves  into  indifference,  and,  as 
it  were,  so  to  waterproof  your  consciences  that  appeals, 
threatenings,  pleadings,  mercies,  the  words  of  men,  the 
Gospel  of  God,  and  the  beseechings  of  Christ  Himself  may 
all  run  off  them  and  leave  them  dry  and  hard. 

One  very  potent  means  of  rendering  consciences  insen- 
sible is  to  neglect  their  voice.  The  convictions  which 
you  have  not  followed  out,  like  the  ruins  of  a  bastion 
shattered  by  shell,  protect  your  remaining  fortifications 
against  the  impact  of  God*s  truth.  I  believe  that  there  is 
no  man,  woman,  or  child  listening  to  me  at  this  moment 
but  has  had,  some  time  or  other  in  the  course  of  his  or  her 
life,  convictions  which  only  needed  to  be  followed  out ; 
gleams  of  guidance  which  only  required  to  be  faithfully 
pursued,  to  bring  him  or  her  into  loving  fellowship  with, 
and  true  faith  in,  Jesus  Christ.  But  some  of  yon  have 
neglected  them ;  some  of  you  have  choked  them  with 
cares  and  studies  and  occupations  of  different  kinds ; 
and  you  are  driving  on  to  this  result, — I  do  not  know 
that  it  is  ever  reached  in  this  life,  but  a  man  may  eome 
indefinitely  near  it, — ^that  you  shall  stand,  like  Herod,  face 
10  la«e  wiUi  Jeios  Christ  and  feel  nothing,  and  that  all 


HBROD^A  BTABTLBD  CONSGIENOB.  325 

QiB  love  and  grace  shall  be  offered,  and  not  excite  the 
faintest  stirring  in  your  hearts  of  a  desire  to  accept  it. 

Oh,  my  friend,  we  have  all  of  us  evils  enough  in  these 
charnel-houses  of  our  memory  to  make  us  dread  the 
awakening  of  conscience,  to  make  us  look  with  fear  and 
apprehension  beyond  the  veil  to  a  judgment-seat.  And, 
blessed  be  God,  we  have  all  of  us  had,  and  some  of  us 
have  now,  drawings  to  which  we  need  but  to  yield  our- 
selves in  order  to  find  that  He  Who  comes  from  the 
Heavens  is  no  John  whom  we  beheaded,  risen  for  judg- 
ment, but  a  Mightier  than  he,  that  Son  of  God  Who  came, 
"  not  to  condemn  the  world,  but  that  the  world  through 
Him  might  be  Bavdd.** 


Date  Due 

*PS2-38 

'3c 

.  ji,  -m 

^ 

Mr  1  5  '4 

^ 

'V     ■;■          V.f;. 

,11  ?>  -  '44 

,  ■  '0  '4b 

'^■H  b  -"5^ 

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i 

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1                    t 

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B  -  Mid.    Horn 


IIAGLAREN 

Christ   in  the  heart. 


